A Distant Port
by beaker67
Summary: The 'Odyssey 5' never knew of the existence of a sixth person. One who had been aboard the ISS and had also seen the Earth implode. The only way they did find out was through a file on Director Hodge's desk. Updated 11/14/09


ODYSSEY/ ISS

**Story 1- A Distant Port**

Disclaimer: **Odyssey 5** and its characters are the creative property of Manny Coto, Sony Pictures Television and the Showtime Network. The author acknowledges this and that the use of these characters are without express permission. I can only hope the owners won't mind another take on the property in the stories I will be writing. All other characters are the property of this story's author and may not be used without her permission.

NOTE: The premature cancellation of **Odyssey 5 **left many unanswered questions. I have tried to remedy this problem somewhat on my end. Of course, only Manny Coto has the final say on all **O5** matters. While I'll not revamp these stories if the series ever restarts, I'll still greatly enjoy seeing where he will take things.

Apologies to all the NASA nuts out there who will find fault with how I try to mesh in things before the **Columbia** disaster [STS 107] that happened on February 1st, 2003. I am suspecting that Manny Coto will work this part of actual history in if **O5** gets renewed life as a TV show.

Lastly, I'll admit that it will be tough for military nuts to swallow the idea of a female Ranger with sniper skills. However, when one deals with the Government, anything can happen. It is a lot like make-believe. ANYTHING can happen if you have the right skills.

Rating: Fiction 'M' [mature]- content for teens and older due to coarse language and violence.

**Houston, Texas- September 2002 [New Time Stream]**

The flower arrangement was still in the corner, up on a shelf, in the living room.

The wildflowers had arrived well-hydrated and in good shape. It had seen the passage of people, most in dark clothes, a few days ago. Had seen them talk, eat, drink, then leave in silent exit. Had seen only three family members come and go in the days past. In the course of time the Oasis block lost its moisture and began to dry out. The flowers likewise began to dry. Unlike the more colorful, bigger arrangements, the wildflowers didn't turn brown and ugly. They simply passed into peaceful release and still life: a museum state.

That is how the flowers were found when Jennifer Taggart-Powell spied it and took hold. She had been scouring the house since she arrived. The place was the sort of pigsty a home turns into when two men live there and no females are in sight. She had her work cut out for her.

There must have been at least six bags of garbage the first day she got in and double that of laundry to be done. Paige's passing left a huge hole here. At least it was one area Chuck couldn't contest. Not like he'd done when Jenny tried to sort and bag up Paige's clothes for the local Goodwill.

Her brother, Chuck, was the classic NASA astronaut: tall, good-looking, blue eyes, buzz-cut hair, shit-eating smile and enough testosterone fueling the whole package to make most women literally flip themselves into bed naked and wait in hopes he'd go for them. There was still one thing he would always lack- tact.

He was likely one of the most foul-mouthed, grown-up brats Jenny had ever known. Then again, she was often a bitch herself. That sort of streak ran in the Taggart family. The trait of outspokenness. Even when very words could cause serious repercussions.

Now Jenny looked at the flowers closely and saw the hiding, unopened envelope still attached to its clear plastic spike. Knew the white garbage bag lurked behind her, with it open mouth and bulging sides. The middle-aged brunette sent another barbed thought toward her brother and his forgetfulness. True, he had lost his wife and now was struggling hard to regain some sense of normalcy to his life and mood. The whole Taggart household had quite a time coming back from the verge of collapse. Paige's death and Mark's desertion had left gaping holes in everyone.

Still, the forgetfulness irked.

Men.

Jenny looked at the arrangement with a critical eye. Surprised at how well it aged and blended into the surroundings. The vase was a nice cream and powder blue stoneware. She felt a sense that this might be something Paige would have chosen.

Quick decision: keep or toss?

Keep.

Jenny pulled out the plastic spike and envelope. She set the flowers back on the shelf. It was not too plain, or flashy. It wasn't dropping leaves or petals. It fit.

"Here's another one", she called out to the dining room.

"Shit. You still finding the damn things?"

The growling, Texas drawl of her brother, Commander Charles 'Chuck' Taggart, came from the kitchen. He was forced to be engrossed with helping to write thank-yous to all the NASA wives and everyone who had helped with Paige's wake and funeral. A NASA family event was always huge.

"Afraid so. Mark down a Major Malinda E. Flynn, US Army."

Chuck Taggart paused his writing a moment. His blue eyes flickered.

Major Malinda Flynn. 'Mali' for short.

Not the kind of astronaut assigned to just any crew. No, not the type at all.

There were three grades of astronaut in NASA employ: Not good, pretty good and the type of astronauts other astronauts knew are very fucking good. He'd known of her for the past ten years and the reports about her that came back were always consistent. She was always the last, highest grade of space jockey.

Mali Flynn was one astronaut and specialist Taggart had tried to get on his crews time and again. He got shot down every time. She went into space, for sure. Just never under his command. He'd heard the comments about her get thrown around. Mostly jabs at her 'elitist' attitude and other shit. The types of comments that came from those who hadn't served with her and were likely covering their own inadequacies. The kind of people that made Chuck Taggart wince and want to drop-kick their ass beyond Pluto's orbit.

NASA picked the crews. Astronauts sure as shit did not.

The clenched cigar between his teeth had gone out minutes ago.

Her name hadn't been around the JSC for quite some time. She wasn't on the roster for any upcoming flights. Hell, even Angela had never flown with her that he could recall. Especially when the additions to the International Space Station were getting far more frequent.

Flynn's name still resonated to a point five years into the future.

Neil Taggart looked up at his father's pause and distant eyes. Something had prickled his recall too. Their eyes met for a moment. A shared memory.

"XO on the ISS."

Chuck Taggart might have been cryptic in the words to his son, but they both knew. Major Flynn would be/ had been another casualty on that fateful day. The day when the world blew itself and everyone on it to complete shit. She was unaware of her future fate. A very damn good astronaut, but still one of the six billion dead. He scrawled the name in his terse style on the pad and gave it no further thought. There were many more 'thank yous' before the Major's would be written out.

**Five Years into the Future- old timeline- August 7****th****, 2007**

**Aboard the International Space Station **

The station time was still 0211 Hours, GMT. Then it turned another minute to 0212.

The ISS was mostly quiet except for the distant bass booms from an equally distant boombox.

ZZ Top's 'Velcro Fly' was busy becoming undone while the form in the khaki and white sleep sack slept. A black cover over her eyes to keep out the dim lights from overhead and block out the instrument panels. The small window by her sleep station showed a seemingly-placid, blue planet beneath them.

Out of the five-man ISS crew, Systems Commander Mali Flynn was truly enjoying the hell out of her needed sack time. In roughly two more months, she would be on a shuttle and going back down after her six-month stint. An equally-earned rest would follow after the grueling pace set by her superiors at NASA. They even allowed the present shuttle to resupply the station this time around. All things seemingly normal. The meet-up was two days away.

While she slept and others partied, none were aware of what would happen in less than five minutes. Mali never even heard the distant, low-volume NASA link to Earth- presently relaying the latest broadcast from the **Odyssey**- break into static snow over the digital channel.

The clock finally hit 0215.

Gentle beeps woke Mali from her black sleep.

No dreams were had tonight. There never any. Not anymore.

She always took the late half of the night shift for the peace and quiet. As she came to her senses, she heard the distant music and knew that Bennett had infiltrated her CDs again. It was no problem, so long as he kept all fingerprints and scratches of every one of them.

Walsh and him were likely getting cozy in a distant venue. Stuart minded his hydroponics and Walters, power-hungry kiss-ass that he was, was probably figuring out his next strategy to advance in the ranks at the JSC. Thought he was a man the Cadre might seriously be looking at. The Cadre knew better than to let him know he wasn't worth jack shit to them.

There was morale to uphold, you know.

Peeling the cover from her olive-green eyes, Mali unzipped her bag and drifted past a placid computer screen. Her hand combed through her short, blonde hair. The computer updated just after she passed. Unnoticed by a person needing to use the head, it blipped new words. A long line of commands to the ISS computers.

One of the words was 'Leviathan'.

In a tunnel, Mali's hand just touched the head's door.

Unoccupied. Praise the deity of your choice and there better be butt-wipe...

The Earth was normal only a second longer before all links went down completely from its surface. Then, like someone unzipping a giant, flame-edged wrapper, the Earth's atmosphere completely evaporated. The huge, four-billion year-old orb convulsed with fiery cracks throughout, then sucked itself into nothing but titanic bits of space debris.

Huge, violent shudders shook the ISS.

In zero-gravity and flickering lights, Mali began rapid handholds back to the command center. Each grip shuddered in her hands.

"Flynn!"

The voice of her barely thirty-something Commander on this go-around just cleared the noise level. Very barely.

"Yeah!"

Mali emerged into the center, gave William Walters a cursory look, before settling at the comm station to try and get some feed from Houston. Lacking windows, the ISS command center never saw what had happened to the planet it once orbited above. All anyone knew was that a huge shitstorm was pummeling the trillion-dollar station into soon-to-be pulp.

Walters might have eyed her sweatsuit and tennis shoes with disgust, but said nothing about it. There were way more important things to deal with. Living through whatever the fuck was now happening , for one.

"Primary comms to surface is inop. Houston and Cape non-response. Switching to secondaries!"

Mali's eyes scanned the screen before she tried to raise Houston on the secondary link.

There was nothing on it.

Her mind felt oddly disconnected. Like somebody had pulled the plug and the whole Network was gone.

"Raise **Odyssey**! Where the fuck is Bennett?!"

Likely reeling from _coitus interruptus_, Mali thought dryly. For a second she was surprised to have had the thought at all. The Network never allowed such thoughts, normally.

"On it now! Secondaries are also shot!"

Mali's fingers just finished going to the Shuttle's frequency. Her hand reached to tap her thin, headset mic.

Maybe..Gods, they had to know....

A hurling chunk of former planet, the size of Hawaii, slammed its edge into the ISS's antennas and sent them hurtling through space. A huge, bright gash opened from the torn-off fittings.

A gas cloud billowed out of the rupture. That chunk preceded one ten times bigger.

The ISS was now a mosquito in the path of a Mac truck.

A huge shudder rocked the ISS and sent untethered debris flying all over.

"Comm is fucked! We're dead here!"

Mali blurted and reached to touch the video screen's buttons. Nothing. No reaction at all. In all likelihood the **Odyssey** was already wiped out. Like they would be.

"We got a lot of shit flying out there!"

Walters muttered, trying to hold on.

Their heads spun around to note the direction of a huge hissing and sudden breeze that developed, though it was light. It was before the alarms began to sound.

Hull breach!

Walters tried to maintain a handhold through the wicked shimmy that rattled the station. For a moment he didn't seem to take the alarms seriously to do anything. He seemed to want to comment on what was happening.

"They sure the fuc....."

A huge crash smashed them from their grips and sent them into an opposite wall.

Mali heard a grunt in back of her, then saw Walters come into sight with half his head caved-in. Blood and brain made a slow trickle out into the cabin. The piece of console that did it spun slowly in zero-G.

Resorting to Ranger training, Mali did a triage knew William Walters was toast without further thought. Her ear then pricked to an even more intense breeze on her face that turned into an audible scream: The ISS had ruptured and was leaking huge quantities of oxygen to space. Where there was loss to space, zero-pressure atmosphere was sure to follow. Both were lethal to Terran-based, organic species like her.

She heard the distant screams of her crewmates as she, against all normal response to save them, resorted to training to paddle from the breeze. Looking at the hatch, Mali flung herself into the next chamber and pulled it shut behind her. The noise assailed her ears as she pushed it closed and spun the sealing bar. Through the small porthole she saw one of her crewmates, Stuart, get sucked out a huge rip. Walter's body followed behind. Mali turned her eyes briefly and took note of the other hatch. If she could reach it, she could seal herself in.

It was then that the feeling of being sucked down a drain began. She saw the other hatch come up to her with blinding quickness.

The ISS teetered on the brink of a huge whirlpool.

The void left by the Earth left a gaping vacuum. The ISS began to fall in. Its chambered arms and solar panels breaking off. Atmosphere escaping like puffs of cotton into nothing.

A snowflake-shaped craft paused to regard the battered object from its far distance. It hung near a huge, gas-giant planet the Terran species had referred to as 'Jupiter'. Immense chunks of planet blew out now, streaking past the former planet's one, small moon.

There were no more lights now.

Mali slowly got her head to turn and her eyes to look down at the equipment casing that had slammed into her gut. She had heard/felt her ribs break, tasted blood and vomit in her mouth. She was doomed.

_The pooch has been screwed_.

The thought caused no mirth. Her dry humor dryly summed up her terminal state. Her body was rapidly turning into a useless shell. Deep in her mind a cry formed. One that grew with the seconds and tried to find her now, non-existent voice: WHY!!!!

Mali's eyes shut. Only for a second. Or so it seemed.

Then opened to chalky brilliance.

An old man's face, almost the face one would envision for a college professor, came to her.

She blinked in disbelief. His mouth opened and a torrent of noise came forth. Her response was now completely unfocused on herself and her imminent fate. She focused on him. Shook her head at the noise. Said, with what strength she had left.

"English! Speak English!"

Globs of blood and vomit came out into zero gravity and hung wetly. Still, the thought had been received.

A slight smile came to the man/alien/spirit's features. Her croak then made the face disappear. Saw the cabin before her get ripped away. Had just taken her last, painful gasp before it did. Saw the vision of a huge vortex of dust and debris floating before her. The moon was now being bombarded with hits. The sun glowed resolutely through the haze.

Her vision went to black. Pain ceased. Her body exploded in zero pressure atmosphere.

Malinda E. Flynn's physical form was dead.

The Seeker let out a sad sigh.

The alien had been just able to send her consciousness back in time. However, she had been sent back without understanding why. Her outlook was not promising. What humans termed 'Fate' would have to decide. The Seeker sought things and answers. Had just succeeded in saving a person whose species had just been made extinct. It almost seemed to be without purpose. The 'Human' would have great obstacles once she awoke in her planet's recent past- about five 'years' prior to this calamity. At least that was the span of time the Seeker could discern would have fit closest. Her consciousness would have to try and adapt.

The Seeker would remain in this system. Keep searching for more, possible survivors. This now-extinct species had but barely made it into space. In that, there was a hope. A hope that more might have made it. The Seeker chose to approach closer.

**Five Years Earlier- 2002[nts]- November 27****th**

**Houston, Texas- Johnson Space Center**

Nearly six feet tall, Chuck Taggart towered over most folks at the JSC. He walked down its hallways with the assurance only acquired through decades of training and experience. He knew every nook and cranny of the building and the site. He knew even most of the faces, but the passage of time was bringing in newer ones he hadn't the foggiest about. He still knew many. Even knew Cynthia Hodge, Ed Scrivens replacement. After the man's untimely death, her walking into Ed's spot was as much as an affront to NASA's history as he would ever see. Knew he hated the bitch's guts from the first time he saw her.

If it wasn't crap that her Cadre had pulled in arresting Kurt Mendel, it was what they pulled on his comrade and fellow astronaut, Angela Perry. The damn Synthetics, through Sentient control, tried to impregnate her with some kind of hybrid offspring. It made him nearly come unglued.

Getting Kurt free of guilt and out of jail was one thing. Getting Angela away from Synth/Cadre control was another. It was still another matter to get the FBI off all of their cases. The whole deal made Chuck seriously wonder why in hell he bothered to remain in NASA at all. Once it was all said and done.

He knew why he had to remain. Even when Hodge invitingly offered him a very plush severance package to get rid of him: six billion human lives and an entire planet.

That he remained was no joy to Hodge.

She hated and despised him. Perhaps even feared what his group and he had achieved on their own. Had taken Cadre dealings well away from his earshot and contacts with the space agency.

Angela might have recovered. Kurt might be back in his pad. Sarah might cope with her son's terminal cancer without worries too heavy elsewhere. Neil was on his way to becoming an astronaut, but Chuck Taggart knew the mission was still there. Even if he'd conquered his own demons and was coping still with Paige's untimely death. At least, he was not running away from everything now.

He still had to somehow make sure Neil got into the astronaut ranks. Wanted to find Mark again and, maybe, regain the relationship he once had with his eldest son. He wasn't sure the man would ever want him as a father again. The whole group still had a mission to come together for the crew that would man the Odyssey.

Hodge and Taggart circled each other like equally-matched predators in the same territory. Each waiting for the other to lash out first. At present, it was stalemate.

Now the bitch beckoned.

Taggart sensed this was not a social call. He also sensed that this wasn't about him. Many letters had come to the house and all addressed to Mark, his eldest son. Since Mark had taken off to points unknown, he hadn't bothered to show for his astronaut training. Chuck knew the meeting today could be about only one thing: Mark was being dismissed from the Program.

A career in the stars would never be his. Truth told, he never had the chops for it.

Thus it was, when he stepped into Hodge's reception area- replete with walled memorabilia she had no part in achieving- that Taggart's gut twisted. It was too obvious that she openly stepped on Ed's memory to walk into her new status.

The slacks, shirt, and sport coat were suitably business-like for this meeting. Still, there was no denying that months of sparring with Sentients, Synthetics, and the Cadre left Taggart scarred and wary. Indeed, him and his fellow survivors hated what NASA was turning into. Their

'Pissing in the time stream' cost him his eldest son's loyalty, his beloved wife and plenty of good time that could have been spent with both. The only thing now was the shared view of an entire planet that had blown itself to bits. Their group was small. So very, damned small.

Going into Hodge's office now was like going into the very nexus of all the evil in their lives.

The secretary was young, pretty, blonde and too jaded to be dazzled by a good-looking, if older, astronaut. Taggart had seen her a few times before. She looked at him with pale, washed-out eyes. Devoid of any spark of real intelligence. Paige she wasn't. The girl was nothing but a Worker doing the Queen bee's bidding.

Gave him a lukewarm nod of acknowledgment.

"Please have a seat, Commander. The Director will be with you shortly."

_And I could do you and be done with you in less time than it takes for her to get off her padded ass. _

Taggart concealed his sour, mental comment behind his lined, good looks. Hodge was notorious for keeping him hanging. Now, more than ever. He took the nearest seat and sat down. Casually took a magazine and glanced through it. His ears picked up noise. A very heated exchange behind the closed doors. The secretary paid it, and him, no mind. His hearing was good enough to catch snippets.

"Disappear?! How in hell could she simply DISAPPEAR?!"

Cynthia Hodge brushed her shoulder-length, brunette hair from her face and switched the phone to her other hand.

She glanced at the open folder in front of her and scowled at the full color photo that was part of it. Perhaps the one astronaut in NASA who was worth something to the future goals of the Cadre. Now she was in the role of a fugitive, without being charged with any crime.

The voice on the other end was matter-of-fact. The undertone of fear just coming out ever so faintly.

"We have no record of where she went. Her damned friends must be hiding her. She left no forwarding address. We checked her apartment at the Cape and its stripped clean. The landlord never received a forwarding address to send the deposit money to her."

"When did he last see her?"

"She took a trip out to Arizona this past summer. When she got back was the last time he ever saw her."

_Arizona? What in hell was Flynn doing out there?_

Hodge scowled anew.

First the crap with Taggart and his 'gang'. Now this. The Cadre's top-picked astronaut defected to points unknown. Hodge had approved the initial leave for 'family business' but never counted that the woman would pull this. She was the best of all the astronauts in the NASA rotations; outside of Taggart and a few others. Her future place in the Cadre was assured.

She looked up to see her secretary poke her head in the door and make a hand gesture.

Taggart was out there.

The plan sprung in to her mind almost as fast as she looked at the open file. The man on the other end still rambled on. If her office couldn't find a renegade astronaut then why not have a fellow astronaut track her down? Lord knew, Taggart had asked for the woman top be assigned to his crews for ages. No doubt his little band might welcome trying to coerce her to join them. Then Hodge could wipe them all from the roster and sink their careers. Suitable payback for all the undue strains they'd put her through. Payback for fucking with the Cadre once too often. What better bait than a file just sitting on her desk? Perhaps just under the one for Taggart's son- the washed-out failure.

Of course, there were 'others' who would not let Taggart and his people off so easy. They had caused too much trouble to be calmly forgotten about. THAT bunch of 'others' would never forget.

Well, the desk bitch hadn't jumped fast enough.

Taggart heard the conversation die down when the secretary poked her head in, made a motion with her hand and retreated quickly. Shut the door with a near-silent click.

He feigned being busy with reading a few minutes. When Hodge finally did emerge, she gave him a poisonous look before regarding her secretary.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am."

The secretary responded, with all the vigor of a robot.

Taggart watched Cynthia Hodge click away down the hallway on her sensible heels and eyed the partially-open door. Saw the desk and its files. One thought came to his mind. An office with loads of intelligence to be had. Enough to bring all the Cadre's shit to a screeching halt if viewed by the 'wrong' people.

The thought was simple. He was the 'wrong' person to see it. He **would** see it.

Taggart eyed the secretary.

Neil and his cell phone could do the rest. Surely posing as JSC Security would be a fun exercise. Threats of towing the woman's car could pry the wench from her desk and give him the time to snoop in Hodge's office. They both had rehearsed for such a scenario.

Chuck Taggart got up to leave for the bathroom.

**St. Mark's Island- Off the northwest coast of Washington State**

Walter Kremmling watched her heft a huge duffle from her shoulder and give it a toss onto the deck of her boat. Watched her undo the bow and stern lines before jumping into the 30-foot trawler before it slid too far from dock. He'd seen the case of liquor get loaded yesterday. Enough to put anybody on a serious bend. He didn't think she'd try to off herself by drinking every last bottle end-to-end.

His weathered face had seen her go out to sea many times in the past months. Ever since she'd returned to St. Mark's. Her folks' place was no longer uninhabited. Their daughter had come back. Even if they were dead. Still, Walt could not mistake the pain he saw every time he interacted with Mali Flynn. Having served his time in Korea taught him about how different people dealt with pain. Whatever the fuck had happened back in Florida must have been bad.

She'd laid in enough gas and food for at least a week at sea. She wouldn't be returning before then.

The Harbormaster looked up at the clear blue sky. The week would be mostly good. A front would be in by the weekend, though. Mali might be back by then. Then too, she might not. Hell, she'd already made enough money doing fishing charters during part of the tourist season. Now there was only the slide into winter and the island would be blessedly quiet. A time of year when some might get too depressed. For sure, he'd seen a few suicides at sea too.

**The Canary Diner, Houston**

The 'Odyssey Five', as they sometimes called themselves, sat at one of the booths.

Sarah Forbes, Angela Perry, Kurt Mendel, Neil and Chuck all gathered at least once or twice a week here. Tonight was no different. Though Chuck did make sure that Penny was NOT working before he fully came in. With her not here, he felt confident in ordering a bowl of chili.

He'd met Penny when he came in to do his crosswords and have coffee, many months ago. Often late at night. They'd struck up a friendship. Then a relationship. Then talk of a more permanent arrangement came up. That was when Penny began to change. Began to question, began to get suspicious, began to accuse. Finally, began to be an outright pain in the ass.

The serious relationship had been her idea.

Chuck was not enamored with it. The sex and companionship were nice but, try as he might, it was not hard to see it as a plain 'rebound' from being widowed. They parted company and Penny took it hard. She hadn't been able to stand his evasive answers about what he did with his group. Couldn't stand his being gone all the time. Definitely couldn't stand that his attention wasn't focused on her when he wasn't at NASA. It was the classic let-down of being attached to a 'flyboy'. Something she'd had no previous experience with.

"No, the former 'Bride of Chuckie' is not here. I already checked for you."

Kurt Mendel's British accent brought a few smiles and chuckles but got a sour look from the Commander.

Angela was the only one looking surprised. After another stint on a back-up crew, she had been out of the loop. The first one since the trouble of many months ago.

"You broke it off?"

"SHE broke it off."

Taggart corrected. Shut up completely when Stacey, one of the daytime regulars, set a bowl of house chili in front of him. Along with iced tea. Left a cheeseburger for Neil with a Coke. Waited until she left.

"It's over."

"I'm sorry."

Angela then, wisely, kept her mouth shut after that.

"I'm not."

Taggart growled and lifted the spoon and commenced to dig in.

Kurt, however, was not willing to let the man make a substantial dent in the stuff.

"So, why did you call us here? Another lead, or do you wish to regale us with tales of adventures in Hodgeland?"

Taggart's blue eyes looked at Kurt's scruffy face. Swallowed the bite of chili.

"You could say that."

The group waited until he sat up.

"I saw something in Hodge's office while she was out. Thanks to a cell phone diversion with her secretary. It seems that one of NASA's top astronauts has gone AWOL."

Angela looked at him. Saw Neil hide a smile beneath his hand. Obviously the snooping was NOT authorized by any stretch and it had been pulled off successfully. Only one person fit that category that she knew of.

"Wait, are you talking about Flynn? She's been gone on leave."

"On personal, extended leave. Yeah, I heard that hubbub too. However, she got 'terminated' yesterday. Seems she's failed to show for required training."

"So?"

Sarah offered, not really knowing about the nuances of the space agency.

"The 'so' is that you MUST show for all training if you want to keep your career. Flynn didn't. Or, felt it was useless to continue on with it. I would find that very hard to buy. She's in the top flight of everyone in the agency."

Angela explained. It was no secret that Flynn easily rivaled her for experience. Even if it was more with the ISS than the Shuttle. Flynn wasn't a pilot, but she had skills beyond Angela's, in certain, classified areas.

"What we have to ask ourselves is why an astronaut with well over a decade of flawless service suddenly leaves for months then, through 'no show', gets herself fired."

Chuck tried hard to recall her exact features. He'd only seen her in passing. Blonde hair, small stature...almost more a man than any sort of woman he was used to. Had seen her once, walking with her crew to a Shuttle launch back at the Cape. It was a few years ago. Ed had sent him to work there for the pre-launch. Taggart had never felt the impulse to really try to talk to her. She was too distant and too removed from his own sphere of life. Even if they were both astronauts. They were but two, out of the thousands the Agency employed.

"I'm not following you. Why should we care?"

Sarah asked.

"Malinda Flynn was the XO on the ISS in the old time stream. In this time stream, she went on unannounced personal leave hours before Ed Scrivens died. She has not been seen here since and left no forwarding address. Of course, Hodge's servants didn't realize this until they checked her apartment at the Cape."

Taggart saw the baffled looks. Couldn't believe they'd forgotten that she was being groomed to be a top, Cadre astronaut. Maybe already was. The reasons for the Cadre to be pissed would be huge with something like that.

"Are any of you at home?! Don't you recall the names that came up on the file of Cadre members and prospective members when we freed Angela?"

The group began to look like they were beginning to grasp the idea. Which was good. Taggart was getting annoyed.

"I don't know about any of you, but I'd like to know where Flynn disappeared to. I'd like to ask her some questions. Hopefully, I can get somebody to smoke out her file on the computer?"

Taggart looked at Neil.

"Wasn't she permanently living in Florida?"

Neil asked, recalling the 'thank you' note they'd sent her after his mother's death.

"No. All her NASA mail, which was in her file, was returned. Unopened and stamped with 'Return to Sender'. Obviously, I would think she has another residence."

Taggart began to eat his chili again. It was only lukewarm now. He was hungry and nobody cooked much since Paige died.

"So, aside from this snooping in Hodge's office, what else did SuperBitch have to say?"

Kurt asked in his usual tone. One that was not so much mocking as being unphased by whatever might have been found. Hodge had few tricks to pull out of her sleeves now. Especially after the fiasco with the 'moon rock' and the Sentients.

"Mark's out of the program. He hasn't shown in months."

"That must've made Hodge happy."

Kurt replied.

"More than likely."

Taggart looked up at Sarah's careworn face.

"If you want to leave, go ahead. I know your son isn't well."

"How's he doing, by the way?"

Angela asked.

"He's OK, today. It has been a long day for me. Listen, I'll look into things on my end about Flynn. I have a contact or two I can try. See you all later."

Sarah rose and left.

They stayed quiet until their friend had left. The waitresses were circulating anyway. Then, they could go back to talking.

"If we do find her, what are you proposing?"

Angela queried.

"I'd like to talk to her. Find out why she never has come back. What soured her to the Cadre and NASA."

"Might be dangerous. They might simply have her on 'stand by'."

Neil offered and got his father's eyes looking dead on him.

"I doubt that, son. When NASA cans you, it's final. Find another line of work because there is no 'stand by' after. You are on your ass and on the street."

"Top-flight astronaut. Her landing couldn't have been too bad."

Angela looked at Neil, then Chuck. Then at Kurt, who was quite quiet during the whole discussion.

"Likely not. Not with high six figures coming in every year for her skills. No, I'd really like to chat with her."

Taggart's eyes flickered before he finished his chili. Trying hard to recall exactly what memories he had of her from the old timeline. They weren't many and she was damn reclusive. Even if Ed liked her a hell of a lot, professionally.

Angela sighed.

"Well, count me out. I got training due for a new mission."

"Understood. What about you, Kurtrude?"

Chuck favored the scientist with a wry grin. Saw his scientist friend waver, then resign himself to fate.

"Depends on where she's gotten to. Outer Mongolia is not my normal type of place to vacation in."

"I doubt she's gone that far. That's where wonder boy comes in with his computer."

Taggart looked at his son with the slight smile only a father, who expected filial duty of his son, could. Something he openly admitted would not have happened in the old timestream. He never had known of Neil's talent until he was surprised by Neil's having made it into NASA.

Neil gave the look of 'why does this shit always fall on me?' and bit into his cheeseburger.

**St. Mark's Island**

Sheriff Bill Hugo advanced on the prone forms.

Rain dripping from their black ponchos, his posse held shotguns at the ready. He saw the milky ooze coming out of the wounds. One of the 'things' still twitched. His face froze into rage.

The fucks still kept coming! They simply would not leave her, or them, alone!

If there was one thing about the residents of St. Mark's it was that the 'nice faces' they put on tourists in the summer disappeared when the tourists left and winter came on. Now there was no time for courtesy. Especially when mainlanders came, wanting to harm any island resident.

Hugo unloaded a slug into the form's face. The twitching stopped.

"Zip them into sacks. We'll burn them in the clinic incinerator."

Hugo looked back up to the Flynn place. Poor Mali, having to deal with these..._people_ all the time. The island couldn't halt the ferries on what they brought to the island without incurring undue suspicion. St. Mark's operated on being a seemingly innocent, small town/island facade.

His men knew there was no point in doing autopsies on these pieces of shit. They were not even human by any stripe to merit other agencies getting involved. Hugo had lost two deputies before they all got wise to the strangers who always wanted to know where they might find Mali Flynn.

He would never make that mistake again. These two increased the total number to ten.

**10 miles off the coast**

Mali rolled away from the edge and back onto the solidity of the deck. The taste of liquor and vomit coating her tongue like a bad mouthwash. The _**Neptune's Daughter**_ swayed placidly on a calm ocean in hazy sun. It began to warm her up after the chill of the previous, rainy evening.

She'd given up feeling bad about getting so stinking drunk long ago. It was one of the few ways the nightmares couldn't intrude. She might even be able to sleep.

Barfing over the side of a boat from getting drunk was preferable to the uncontrolled sleep from prescribed pills. She could get coherent far quicker through an alcohol haze than a drug-induced one. The only time she'd taken pills was back in Florida. The doc at NASA prescribed them to combat her 'insomnia'. She had taken them and nearly got kidnapped by the Plastics. She threw the pills out and never wanted them again.

It had all fallen into place after Ed Scrivens' death. She knew that wherever she'd been sent back to by this 'Seeker', it was for real- and for good. The Network was well and truly gone. She was a true 'organic' once more, and in control. Something she would never allow to be taken from her again. Still had to wonder if anybody had found the 'body' [if it could ever be called that] of David Greenberg, that now rested in the bottom of a dense swamp in the Everglades. He had met with an abrupt failure to bring her back to the 'Network'. Had she taken the pills- as prescribed- he would have...again succeeded in turning her into a Synth. She had termed them- and herself once- as **Plastics**.

She didn't remain in Florida for very long after that. Knew she had to get out and away. Had to bail on NASA and that whole world that was turning into something very NOT of Earth.

Feeling the gentle sway, Mali shut her eyes and the sea rock her into a lull.

The boat was safely anchored to the sea floor. The Coast Guard knew her position, but Benny would make sure nothing got close to her. Like many St. Mark's residents, he knew about keeping outsiders at bay with much more than a 5–foot pole.

Thus Mali slid into a dark, fitful sleep in the shade of the boat's wheelhouse.

**Texas- Location Unknown **

The huge, underground cavern where the Cadre's elite met had always been imposing in size. Originally built to house dignitaries in the event of nuclear war, it now served as an ultra-secure meeting place for this small, powerful band.

Despite the size, Cynthia Hodge still felt faintly claustrophobic as she took her seat at the rectangular table. She hadn't even sat down when one of the Cadre, an Army general with the name of 'Pierce', fixed her in his steely gaze.

"Are Taggart's people on to her yet?"

"I think so."

A bit evasive, but needed until all were assembled.

"Do you have trouble with a simple 'yes' or 'no', Director?"

"As you put your inability to find her on me, 'General'? Flynn is Army. She should be in your purview as well."

The two members stared at each other as a well-dressed, portly man came in. His slicked hair and brown eyes regarded the both of them with a look that might be reserved for somebody watching two, fighting dogs. The sheen of his suit spoke about power and money in equal measure. No member of the Cadre came from the lower rungs of society. Each were lords of their respective domains. Even Flynn dominated over other astronauts, in her own way. Congressman Harrison Reddling had enough power in Congress to sway things any way he wished to.

"Enough. If Taggart and his group are on to her, so much the better. We all know our 'friends' are no help in any case."

The reference to the Synthetics made the group uneasy. Eventually, nobody who went into space would be anything else but a Synth. At least, that had been the original plan. Now, even that was in question. Serious question.

"A few haven't reported in yet."

"Would they? Given that they have already hidden so much from us? After all we have done for them? That they haven't ever checked in bolsters my poor opinion of them."

Reddling looked at the group, then to Hodge.

"How is **Bright Sky 2 **coming along, Director? Will it be ready for the flight in January?"

**Two days later**

The baby blue Mustang cut a bee-line to the Canary which was about 10 miles away.

Chuck and Neil both enjoyed the last of a warm, Indian Summer day with the top down. The talk had been on Neil's grades. They weren't the caliber for MIT or Harvard admittance, much less getting a sniff at NASA. Then Neil switched talk to where Flynn might be and hints about him coming along.

"All I'm saying is that dependent on where she has gotten to, you might not be needed, Neil. If she's nearby, which I seriously doubt, you can come with. If not, you need to be in class more than snooping the shit with us. Your ass needs to be in Harvard by next Fall."

Chuck waved his half-smoked cigar before shoving it back in his teeth. His eyes scoped the road ahead as he waited for Neil's answer. He knew his son was still pissed, even without a response.

Neil might not have shown it, but did he felt let down. Like a kid denied entrance to the best, no-parents, kick-ass party in town. At least, a 17 year-old would have thought that. Not a 22 year-old. There was no doubt Neil was always a valuable member of the Odyssey 5. It would be all for nothing if he couldn't even set foot in the door to be on the shuttle flight roughly four years off.

_Tough shit_, Taggart thought. _Nothing about this venture will be minor league._

"You know, I've been thinking on a few things."

Neil ventured after a few minutes of Texas landscape whizzing past.

"And?"

"Major Flynn left before Ed Scrivens got killed. The very same time we all came 'awake' in this time stream. She was XO on the ISS when the world blew."

Neil saw his father nod.

"She was a top-rank astronaut for the Cadre in both time streams. At least that is what is there now. From what we know."

"According to Layton on this half. Go on."

Taggart hated to bring up the name of his friend and mentor who was now little more than the Cadre's unwitting pawn. That the man had Alzheimer's and an over-protective daughter made things worse. Then the man had done the ultimate mindfuck: had turned into a Synth. It made him absolutely forbidden to talk to, or confide in. Layton Scott would never again be the friend and confidant that Chuck Taggart had once known.

Neil Taggart hesitated to say it, but it made too much sense. It would be absolutely amazing if she was.

"Dad, do you think she's like us? A survivor?"

"That, son, is why I'm scope-locked on finding and talking to her. I might be so full of shit that I'm brown and smell. If I'm not, no matter her training, she's in a huge shitload of danger."

Taggart's eyes flickered again. For the first time he could recall, Taggart was excited by the prospect that there might be another person in the entire world who would know exactly what all of them had been through. Somebody who would know, without the need for coddling and patient explanation, what would happen in August of 2007.

There was also the fact of a person dealing with the memories alone. The Odyssey 5 had each other to confide in. Sets of ears and brains listening and understanding, even when everyone else couldn't- or wouldn't- understand. Paige had been a very unusual exception. Now she was dead.

Mali Flynn had none of their support network. She had nobody to talk to or confide in. At least from what Neil found. Even a top shrink would classify her as delusional and would either medicate her up the ass, or have her committed. In either case, psych problems were death sentences for ever working in NASA again. No matter if she got fired, she would not be able to get reinstated. She would never be found to be sane again. Not to the satisfaction of the Astronaut Corps.

"Leaving NASA would be the only, real option. I can't fault the abrupt leave of absence. Who could? Even training.. Hell, it would be dangerous in itself."

Chuck muttered and saw that Neil was looking at him.

"I haven't heard of any other weird shit happening with the ISS folks."

"The other four must've died that day. We know, or _think_, that the Seeker only sent us back. That we were the only ones left alive. Why didn't the Seeker tell us?"

"Hell if I know. If this is true, the alien had its reasons. Damned if we know any of them."

The front of the Canary came into view.

Taggart knew it was trouble when the other three emerged from their cars parked in the rear. They saw Kurt walk up and wait until Taggart shut the motor off.

"The venue has changed. We're going to my place."

Taggart's cigar switched to the other side of his mouth.

"Yeah? Why?"

"The information is nothing to mention publicly. There's also the fact that your ex-Bridezilla is working tonight."

"Shit!"

Taggart muttered and turned the engine over again. The Mustang rumbled back into her alive purr. Bridezilla he could have dealt with. Information that couldn't be openly discussed was another matter entirely.

It wasn't often that Kurt cleaned his loft.

Then again, stranger things had happened as the Odyssey 5 found seats. Kurt flitted about, tossing garbage and getting things into a semblance of order and clean.

Sarah decided to tempt fate and took a sip of water from a glass she found in Kurt's kitchen. Neil and Chuck tried not to smirk at Kurt's frantic scrambling. Angela looked at her watch.

"The reason why the venue was changed is because a guest will be joining us. It was easier for him to get here than be at the Canary."

Sarah spoke, before she saw the speck of crud on the glass she'd drank out of. NEVER again would she trust Kurt to have anything clean. Absolutely NEVER again.

"What type of guest?"

Neil asked.

"His name is Dr. William Landis. He's in town from the Cape."

Sarah attempted to keep her gorge down and, thankfully, succeeded.

"I very nearly lost getting in touch with him. The JSC isn't too partial to talking to the media these days."

"Only through official channels."

Chuck sat up.

"I know him. He's a propulsion engineer and designer. Works at Kennedy."

"He also happens to be good friends with Malinda Flynn. Perhaps her only real friend there. A contact at the Florida station put me onto him. He knows Landis but doesn't say how. It just happens that way. Dr. Landis had a meeting at the JSC today. He has a flight home, tonight."

"Florida? There's no flight scheduled for months."

Angela offered.

"No. Minnesota. His family lives outside of Minneapolis."

Sarah corrected, her hand brought forth some papers with Flynn's bio on them.

Chuck looked at them. It was all standard issue. Nothing profoundly detailed. Likely gleaned from some NASA site for public consumption.

"Find anything else?"

"She's an Army Ranger for one. Went into that after graduating the ROTC program at her local college in Seattle in '86. Still had very high grades for somebody contemplating the Army as a career."

"I thought women couldn't be Rangers?"

Neil shot forth.

"Women **can** be Rangers. They have to go through Jump School and many other hurdles. The wash-out is sky high. Most women don't set their sights on that stuff."

Angela said, eyeing Neil.

"I considered it at one time, even though I was in the Air Force. It was too rigorous for me, so I opted out."

Sarah continued.

"Completed Basic in '87 and specialized training at Fort Benning in '88. Came out as a Communications Officer and weapons expert."

"Comms. She was the same on the ISS."

Chuck commented. There were rumors that she had phenomenal hearing for different frequencies and patterns. It was something that got her some acclaim.

"Damn fine one, too."

"Saw action in Desert Shield and Storm. Got hired by NASA in '92. Astro training complete in '93. Flew six Shuttle missions and has already done an ISS stint. Very rounded career, all things considered."

"Also one of the most distant people I can recall."

Chuck muttered. He hadn't seen Kurt walk away and go out the front door of his place. He came back with a man who had just come off the lift.

"If she was quiet it is because she is an introvert, and loner, by nature."

They all turned to see a man of average height with a wiry build. Dr. Landis had dark brown hair and the pale skin of somebody who spent some time indoors. His blue-grey eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses, regarded the group but settled on Taggart. They had met at the Cape.

"Hello, Commander. Mrs. Forbes informed me that you would be here."

Chuck rose from his seat and went to shake the man's hand. He might have been a 'geek', but the 'geek' had a hell of a brain..and liked a good, occasional cigar- or so the rumor had it.

"You heard that your friend went off-screen?"

"I figured she would. I'm surprised she didn't do it sooner."

Landis turned to note Angela. Recognized her from watching several shuttle launches at the Cape.

"Ms. Perry. Nice to see you."

Angela nodded.

"Doctor."

Chuck drew Landis' attention.

"Doctor, my son, Neil. And your host.."

"Dr. Mendel."

Landis finished the sentence.

"I've read some of your work. Its quite good."

"Thank you."

Kurt tried hard to not appear to be a man that had rushed the past ten minutes cleaning up his bachelor sty.

Dr. Landis consulted his watch and looked up.

"I'm sorry to push this, but I do have a flight to catch soon. If we could get to business."

Sarah indicated a chair.

"Doctor, how well do you know Major Flynn?"

"Mali and I first met over in Germany. We were both in Wurttemburg, attending a meeting on military ULF frequencies. We've kept in touch after that. Our respective careers brought us back into contact at NASA."

"Do you know what happened? Why she left?"

"No. Assumptions have tried to link her to Scrivens death. Its nothing I'd regard as solid. Mali's Ranger training would keep her on an even keel. She never talked much about herself, or her other friends, and I respected that. I think her leaving went beyond any friendship with Ed Scrivens."

Taggart's eyes widened. Ed barely ever mentioned Flynn that he could recall. Then again, how else would a Cadre astronaut get go-aheads for select missions under his watch?

"He never mentioned her."

Landis looked at Chuck.

"Not many people knew she was friends with T.K. Mattingly either. She's always kept private business- and friendships- private, Commander."

The group seemed to take in the name of the legendary astronaut and gave far more attention to Landis now.

"Can you tell us what you saw the day after Ed Scrivens' death? You said she changed that day."

Sarah said, breaking the short silence that had fallen over the group.

"I saw Mali the morning after his death. She was rattled. More than I ever saw her being. She had gotten back from being off a few days. She was very quiet, far more than normal. I noticed that she kept clenching her middle. At one point, I took her aside and asked if she was alright. We were doing work on the communication relays with the engines. She said it was nothing and we kept working. Later that afternoon, I heard she turned in a request for extended, personal leave. I haven't seen her, at the Cape, since. Her phone got disconnected shortly after. She also cleaned out her apartment. She did take a trip to Arizona, but never discussed anything else about it."

Taggart's eyes flickered.

"Do you know if she went to the medical office?"

"She did. She told me that the doctor prescribed sleeping pills. That was two weeks later when she told me. When she was packing to move. She was taking a long break from NASA and told me to say nothing. I haven't, until now."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"Not directly. I'd guess she went back to her folks' place in Washington State. They owned a charter fishing operation out of St. Mark's Island. If you want to find her, look there first."

"Doctor, have you ever heard of the Cadre?"

Taggart asked and saw Landis stiffen. The doctor's eyes narrowed.

"Why do you think I'm talking to all of you?"

Landis shifted in his chair.

"I never approved of Mali considering being part of that ilk. Now that she's gone from them, I'd be grateful for anybody who could check in on her."

"Doctor, did the two of you have a relationship?"

Kurt asked, saw the poisonous looks erupt from Angela and Sarah after he did. It smacked too closely to what happened with all the interrogations from Law Enforcement just recently. The prying of Detective Marsden was something none of them would forgive easily. Too much information had been put on the line.

Landis went stern.

"I'm happily married with three sons, Dr. Mendel. My friendship is just that- a friendship. We shared a love for communications and exogeology outside of our jobs at NASA. Both of us were looking at jobs with the JPL before this came up. No, I talked to you all because she is still my friend. I can't visit her without the Cadre getting a precise fix on where she lives. They've tried to find her before. They'll try with you as well."

The group saw Landis eye his watch.

"I'm sorry. I have to get going."

Sarah stood up.

Thank you for talking with us, Dr. Landis. I'll see you out."

"I hope I didn't insult you with the question. I do apologize. Its just that.."

Kurt tried to talk and still felt invisible barbs from the ladies.

"It was a question, Dr. Mendel. It was legitimate, given the topic. Even if it was a bit..intrusive."

Landis gave him a look.

"No offense taken."

Landis turned to Chuck.

"You'd best be careful. Your group is on the Cadre's watch list. I have friends at the Cape. They say you folks raised quite a stink."

Chuck saw the hidden grin in Landis' face and shared it.

"Pleasant it was, too."

"Take care of yourselves. Above all, be safe."

Landis said before Sarah and he stepped into the lift and Kurt shut the gate behind them. The rest visibly decompressed after the man was gone.

"How could you do that?"

Angela spun on Kurt after they took seats.

"Do what, darling?"

Kurt responded, with his usual smile.

"About Dr. Landis' private life. It was rude."

"I was trying to establish the exact nature of his friendship with Ms. Flynn. If he had a relationship with her he might have wanted to use us as pawns for revenge later. Besides, who knows if he's in dealings with the Cadre."

"He isn't. He would've never told us any of this if he was."

Taggart said.

Sarah gave Kurt a disgusted look when she returned.

"You watch too many crime dramas, Sherlock Mendel. You couldn't resist bringing up the 'illicit relationship' angle, could you?"

"Thanks so much for your unneeded opinion, Ms. Watson."

"Which leaves us with the PLAN, folks."

Taggart asserted authority again, over the squabbling. As usual, it worked.

"The plan is for Kurt and I to go to Washington State and track Flynn down. Whiz kid will remain to hold the fort. I'm assuming that your training and Corey's cancer will have you ladies occupied. So your presence won't be required for those good reasons. This is the way things would seem to stand. Unless somebody has other ideas?"

The silence of the group gave Taggart the affirmative.

Angela raised her head.

"Do you think she's like us? I mean, do you think she'd join up with us?"

"It would be nice to have a person with her skills aboard."

Sarah added.

"We don't even know if she is like us, yet."

Taggart retorted, then softened. It was obvious to all of them that he'd thought along the same lines as they.

"If she is, she's screwed the Cadre's plan pretty well. I don't know if she'd come down to pal with our merry, little band in any case. The only way to know is to go up and chat."

The group stood up and the meeting closed.

Penny Whitsun looked around the darkened interior of the Canary as the phone rang in her ear.

She'd seen the cars of Chuck and his buddies in the lot hours ago. She had also seen them speed off. Obviously having had changed their minds. She had mentally rehearsed how she would act and what she would say to him, had he stepped in the door. Prepared to face his four friends, who seemed always closer to him than she ever would be. Even during the sex they shared, he always seemed removed from her in a way she couldn't understand. Maybe it was Paige. Maybe it was the fact that all Chuck might have wanted was the sex and physical closeness. Whatever one called it, it translated into the type of distance Penny couldn't however much she rehearsed, it would have to wait for another day. Again.

Penny's hand traveledto her stomach. It was almost unconscious now. She almost lost it when the EPT had come up positive. There was little way she could care for a baby on her own. Her 'Comanche'-ness about life would have a serious bridle and bit jammed into her mouth with a baby. She thought, and hoped, maybe Chuck might wake up to the fact that there was more now than just fucking to be had in their relationship. If he could accept a baby, and her, perhaps there was a chance that he might be calmed down and not take her as a passing fancy.

The phone continued to ring until she got the voicemail. Her voice nearly cracked when the beep came and it was her turn to speak.

"Chuck, we really need to talk. It is important. Talk to you later. Bye."

Penny turned off her cell and fell new tears spill out of her eyes. Blurring the view of the darkened, empty parking lot and her own, at present, life.

**Four days later **

Mali woke up to clouds and partly sunny above her head.

She'd fallen asleep last night on one of the padded benches. It had been a day when she didn't have to drink herself into a stupor to sleep. It was nice not to wake up nauseated and feeling like a truck had mashed her. Before calling in a steam roller to finish things off.

Her eyes knew the clouds meant one more day of fair weather before she had to chug back into port. Today she could clean up the boat, get some fishing in and generally clean up the squalid mess she was after three days of hard drinking. She never liked to go back in such shape.

Her legs were wobbly from not being used in days. Had to reach out and brace herself against a railing of the wheelhouse. The sea might seem calm, but she felt every pitch and roll of 'tiny' waves. At least, her stomach decided to keep to itself.

Frowning at the spots of vomit on her shirt, she turned and went below to take a shower and change.

Neil had driven them to the airport, then took the Mustang home. Chuck's .45 Colt was still under the driver's seat. The NASA pass on the windshield must have deflected the routine auto search by the guards posted outside of the airport terminal. The tight restrictions of a post-9/11 world also meant that it took two hours to get through security lines at shuffle pace. When Chuck and Kurt finally got to their plane and got in their seats only then did they relax.

The plane was in the air thirty minutes when they pulled down their tray tables and laid the map of Washington State out half-closed. With it laid down, Kurt stabbed his finger at a point off the northwest coast. Taggart squinted at the tiny dot.

Almost immediately, the stewardess with the beverage cart was at their row.

"Would either of you gentlemen care for a drink?"

"Gin and tonic would be lovely."

Taggart knew they carried shit beer and he generally hated soda.

"Whiskey on the rocks. And a bottle of water."

As soon as they had their drinks and paid off, the woman wheeled off. Kurt's accent turned her on and had landed them extra bags of peanuts.

Taggart snorted as Kurt admired the woman's taut behind. Mendel's sexual proclivities seemed to always rear its head at the oddest moments. Something he couldn't say that he presently had in his life. Penny's daily calls were being automatically deleted as he came upon them on his voicemail.

"Not now, loverboy."

Kurt tore himself away and repointed the spot of St. Mark's.

"Checked into the place. It has some good fishing areas. St. Mark is also five miles off the coast. Popular with summer tourists. The only way there is by ferry and, just to be extra quaint, not motorized vehicles are allowed on the island. Foot, bike, horse [very limited] or electric cart only."

"Mackinac Island."

Taggart thought back to when Paige and the boys were far younger. The island was like stepping back in time. It was nice, but far different than his world of rockets and computers. He'd felt out-of-place.

"Most of the three hotels are closed now. One, Harbor View, is open for $80 a night."

"Shit, that's steep. Could you have said something before we left?"

Chuck had brought cash. Just not enough to cover an entire week's stay. His astronaut pay was great. It was just that you had to do a mission every now and then.

"I could have. Then again, I was in shock from the cost of airline tickets purchased on very short notice."

_Here's hoping we can find her in less than a week_. Kurt thought, but didn't dare voice it.

"Well, there's no reason why we should not be able to find her fast. The island itself is, you said very small."

"Ten miles wide by thirty miles long. I'd gather you brought hiking boots?"

Taggart smirked and turned his attention out the window. He took a sip of his whiskey and watched the brown of west Texas give way to the patchy greens of eastern Colorado.

Night settled in to St. Mark's by the time Bill Hugo made it back to the sheriff station and peeled off his sodden coat from the summer-induced rains. It came off the mainland while the view west showed the sun setting over the Pacific. He never got tired of the view and relative insulation from the garbage of the mainland. All its BS and crime left him cold. He picked up a sheet and glanced his eyes over the current report which, as usual, nothing to report at all.

Quiet night.

He took his seat and leaned back behind his desk.

He'd smelled the bodies that got incinerated at the Clinic on the breeze. It was yet another case of nobody came looking for them. The whole mess had started months back. He had been worried sick that the Feds might come sniffing and bring nosy news crews with them. The entire peace of the island would be wiped to shit in less than a day.

Nothing had happened. Life returned to normal.

Hugo looked up at the dark brown form outside his frosted-glass office window.

"Come on in, Jack."

"Evening, Sheriff. Just wanted to let you know that two outsiders are coming in on the ferry."

Jack Yodler ran a hand through his light brown hair and looked itchy to get home.

"Ike says they look 'normal' and they want to get a fishing charter for some salmon. Definitely folks from out-of-state."

"Late in the season. They got an appointment with anybody?"

"No, sir. Pretty mum."

Hugo sighed. Waved his hand at his deputy. Shook his head.

"Alright, I'll keep an eye on them. Just what we need."

"Kremmling also said that Mali will be back in port tomorrow. She called in this afternoon."

The Sheriff frowned. Poor woman. Having all the shit dumping on her. He'd go and check her place later. Usually there was no problem.

"That's good. That Alaskan front is supposed to be blowing in tomorrow night."

"Well, good night sir."

"Say 'hi' to the wife for me."

"Sure thing."

Hugo watched the door shut, then turned to raise the blinds on the window that overlooked the ferry dock. Spats of rain streaked the view, but didn't hide the well-lit area.

Two outsiders.

He seriously hoped they would do nothing but drop their money, get some fish, and get the hell off of St. Mark's. Hospitality was plum wore out this late in the year.

They made the last ferry with only fifteen minutes to spare. The six o'clock ride was the final one to the island for the night. Had they missed it, they would have spent a wonderful, damp night in the confines of a rental car that smelled of old B.O. and cigarettes.

Not a wonderful prospect.

The drive through Seattle and down the coast road had been a little hairy. They made good time through the customary fog and rain. Taggart relished the crisp, sea air coming through the window and Kurt continued to yawn as he fought off sleep.

Now, as the light drizzle pattered on the deck, they saw the flickering lights of the approaching shoreline in the gathering gloom.

"Little chop tonight. Hope you two haven't eaten supper."

An older, white-bearded gentleman came up to them. His clothes were old and mended. Likely an island resident who was coming back from a day trip to the mainland. Judging by the store bags next to him.

"There a good place to eat when we get in?"

Taggart asked.

"Texas boy or thereabouts, eh?"

Seeing the stranger nod, he answered.

"Harry's, open to ten. Burgers and other diner stuff. Stay clear of Mitchell's. Gets damn rowdy and they don't take strangers well this time of year."

"Thanks for the tip."

Taggart flashed a smile then looked at the shore when the ferry blew its horn.

"You folks here to fish?"

"Yeah. Know any decent charters?"

"Some. Most have shut for the season."

"What have you heard about Flynn Charters?"

Kurt asked, with drowsy, seeming innocence.

"Good outfit. Owner knows good salmon spots. Never had any complaints about her."

The old man responded. Not perturbed or, more likely, not totally up-to-date on some things.

"_Her_?"

Kurt asked, feigning surprise.

"Mali Flynn. She's captain of the_** Neptune's**_ _**Daughter**_. She's as born to the sea as her folks were.

Took over the outfit after they died."

"What happened to them?"

Taggart turned. This was starting to get interesting.

"Died, three years ago. Went to some friend's place up on the Alaska coast. Storm whipped down from the Arctic. Blew them over and capsized the boat. Their bodies were washed up on shore. Mali wasn't up here. She was down south, being one of them astronauts in Florida."

The man squinted his eyes.

"You an astronaut? I see the patches on your coat."

"No. My wife bought me this from the Smithsonian for Christmas one year."

Taggart outright lied.

"Thought it would look good on me."

"Nice."

Taggart was about to respond when the call to disembark came over the loudspeaker. They ignored that nearly everyone had gone aboard and they were now among the last. The guys in the wheelhouse must've seen them standing on the deck.

"Say, you know where the Harbor View is? We got a room there."

Kurt asked, helping the old man with his bags.

"Take a right after you get on shore. Can't miss it. Has the big, neon fish on it."

Chuck and Kurt stepped out and surveyed the dock. Nobody was really there, aside from passengers going to their dwellings. They did spot a local law enforcement officer in an electric golf cart who looked them over. Then turned his gaze away.

**Morning**

Mali looked up at the still-dark sky above the boat. Saw clouds floating past the stars. Heard the gentle laps of the waves against the boat's side. The heavy blanket was still over her as her eyes followed the point of light that streaked across the sky. Another satellite on its orbit.

She had the dream again.

At least it seemed less frightening now. It was the dream/memory of when she awoke back in her apartment at the Cape. The pounding heart, the thudding booms in her ears, the huge pain in her gut; it was all there and still she could breathe.

Her eyes traveled around her room's darkened interior. She was quite a minimalist. There was nothing that did not have a use in her bedroom. Her hand reached for the glass of water on her glass-covered nighttable. She came just short of it and knocked it over. The glass seemed to fall to the floor in slow motion. She heard it hit the carpet with a soft thud.

Then she saw the dark form of David Greenberg standing over her. The fellow, NASA worker had been tailing her for some time. Hadn't gotten the sense that he wanted to rape her, so much as he wanted to do something else to her...

Mali groaned. No, it wasn't 'that' history. It was the new one. The one since the Seeker had sent her back.

She tried to sit up but the memory of intense pain kept her down. She tried again, this time convincing herself that she must be back in her old life. With that, she reached for her flashlight and hit the pressure button on the base. It lit and she scanned the calendar on the wall. She hadn't thought it would read anything but '2007'. That, in some bizarre way, she had never even been on that mission. Or suffered its ugly fate. That it was all a really bad hallucination.

She was wrong. The calendar wasn't. It **was** 2002.

Mali sucked in air hard. Fought to keep down shock and panic. All her thoughts came crashing down on her.

The thoughts that raced through her mind were numbing. She had just met her ugly end on the ISS. Now she was back in her apartment and in complete disbelief that she was, somehow, returned to life five years in her past. She mentally calmed her breathing down, along with her racing thoughts. Her mind was a scream of commotion, trying to process everything it had gone through. She looked at the red numbers of her digital clock.

0238.

As before, she had awoken from this dream to ponder it for a few minutes. Usually before she rolled over, made herself comfortable again and resumed slumber. This morning, she couldn't.

Mali got up and sat to look at the pinks on the eastern sky, off towards the dark mound of the island in the far distance.

She had to clean up and head back. Before the storm she saw that manifested in the solid cloud bank in the north sky.

Chuck Taggart had slept on worse beds, but not by much.

That this one was just this side of 'flimsy camp pad on bare ground' didn't put him in an extraordinary mood. The pillows smelled too much of having sat unused and the comforter...well, a washing would have done wonders.

After they got dressed, they both walked the short hike to Harry's for 'Round Two' of meals.

Dinner had been decent. Hopefully breakfast could do as well. Per the instructions from the local 'old fella' they'd met, they shied from Mitchell's. Especially after they saw the drunks being sick out back when they left to get back to the Harbor View last night.

Now the 'old fella' was at the counter and sipping his morning cup of coffee. Chuck and Kurt also saw a few deputies sitting in the corner. They talked in hushed tones and never really gave them any looks.

They settled themselves into a booth, away from the LEOs and had a somewhat grumpy-looking waitress meet up with them. She brought out her pad. They found her voice was more pleasant than her face.

"What would you guys like?"

"Coffee, for one."

Taggart growled, looking over the short menu on the standing card.

"What do you have that's good?"

"The specials sell well. Today is smoked salmon hash with toast and eggs: $3.50."

Taggart raised his eyebrows. Normally he didn't like fish he didn't catch. This place seemed different, though.

"That and a side of hash browns and OJ."

The woman smiled and looked at Kurt.

"And you?"

Kurt, who had been looking out the window, looked back to her.

"Sorry. Umm, coffee, wheat toast and oatmeal."

"Watching your weight, lardo?"

Taggart jabbed and the waitress tried to hide her chuckle.

She sucked it down and nodded.

"I'll have your coffee right out."

"Well, I can't say that I have the appetite of a lumberjack. Did you see the toilet ring this morning?"

"Have your looked at the john in your place lately?"

Taggart shot back.

The waitress came back with their coffees, a pitcher of real cream and a sugar caddy. She left as other customers walked in.

"You notice something about these folks?"

"Many ex-military types. I noticed it last night."

Taggart doused up his coffee and took a sip. He eyed the clouds coming in outside the huge, harbor window. As an ex- Air Force man he knew well the bonds of brotherhood that bound veterans together. No matter what the branch, they usually found safety and friendship among their own kind. It was starting to make sense why somebody like Malinda Flynn would come here than stay away.

They saw the white-bearded man they met last night look at them, but said nothing. The deputies in the corner seemed to keep things subdued. At least until somebody flicked on the TV set and a half-decent picture came in from a Seattle station.

Surprisingly, it loosened things before their meals showed up.

They walked down to the marina after breakfast and watched the boaters take care of their vessels. The wind knocking around already had a colder edge to it and the sun was now gone behind dark clouds. The deck wasn't low enough for rain or snow but would be there by nightfall.

Most boats were being hauled from the water to go to drydock. What few remained sat at pier.

Taggart sniffed the sea air, with its tinge of dead fish, and listened to the wail of gulls as they flew overhead. His blue eyes looked out towards the sea. The coast of Washington was being obscured further down. He saw a black dot appear, then form up into a boat that passed the harbor's breakwater.

"That would be the _**Neptune's Daughter**_. I figured you would want to know."

The old man from the restaurant hauled his own bag of gear to his own boat a couple piers down.

Chuck and Kurt both looked at him. It was Kurt who spoke first.

"We never got a chance to ask your name last night."

"Carl. Carl Fisher. Lived on St. Mark's my whole life. Except when I was in the Navy, back during Korea."

"I'm Chuck Taggart and this is my friend, Kurt Mendel."

Taggart looked back to the boat that was still a way off.

"How long has she been out?"

"Mali? She usually goes out a couple days. She's getting home before the storm today."

Carl looked over Taggart's jacket.

"You ever see service?"

"Air Force."

"I wondered if you weren't a flyboy." _And a liar_ _about not being an astronaut._

Carl went to put his bags on his boat. Then came back to wait by the open pier as the trawler slowed to a glide. The lap of waves grew stronger as the boat's engines cut off and the vessel came up to the tire-studded walls of the pier.

Taggart saw a short person come out of the wheelhouse and threw the bow line to Carl. Walked with obvious sea legs. The only person on the boat. He saw the scuffed, brown leather jacket; like his own but not quite. Head topped with short, blonde hair. The jacket seemed far older than his and outsized. Her father's?

They stood back as the person moved down to the stern and threw that line to Carl. Heard a muttered few words. Carl nodded and walked back to his boat. The person finally looked at them.

Taggart recognized her. On one launch, at the Cape, seen her walking with her crew to the bus that would take them to the shuttle pad. He was back in the spectator area with the cameras and family members. She was short but she still got in the program. Back in the early 90s. Like any of the 'old-timers' he didn't place much stock that she'd be around long. Especially when he heard of her having been Army and being a single woman. Most females wound up going the marriage and family route. Not something that made a woman succeed in NASA.

The woman he saw now froze. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses and her short hair was getting ruffled in the breeze. Instead of 'Hi, how are you?', the form bristled. She obviously recognized him too.

"Commander Taggart. Did fucking Hodge send you to sniff me out?"

Chuck took a deep breath in. Her voice was lower than most women he dealt with. There was nothing frilly about it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he expected this to happen. Flynn was never known for being kind; whether it was at the Cape, JSC, or even here. He responded evenly, not rising to the bait. He heard the stories about her temper.

"No. She did not."

They heard a muttered bunch of words that roughly equated to 'BULLSHIT'. Taggart looked at Kurt before advancing up to the edge of the deck. The boat bobbed with the influx of slight waves rocking it.

"We wanted to find out about why you left NASA."

"And what fucking business is it of yours? You are still in semi-good graces there. Looking for more material to fertilize Houston with?"

"Flynn, there's a lot of shit going there that isn't pretty. Any 'good graces' I ever had there are pitifully few. If you know of things that have happened in the past months, you definitely know my present status there."

"Like threatening to blow '_Bright Sky_' out of the sky?"

Mali came out with a huge duffle bag and a Remington 870 shotgun with a side saddle and sling. Taggart noted that it was loaded with slugshot. She was loaded for bear..at sea? She stepped back and shut the wheelhouse door before slinging both over each shoulder and stepped onto the dock. She turned to nod to Carl, then stood and looked at them. The man beat a quick retreat to shore in the face of the discourse now going on.

"The shit going on there doesn't bother you?"

Taggart asked.

"What bothers me is that **you **have shown up here."

Mali snapped, then looked at Kurt. It seemed the only time she was honestly looking at him.

"Kurt Mendel, aren't you? Still a doctor?"

"I'm pleased you know me. Yes, still a doctor."

Kurt smiled affably, but saw Mali look again at Taggart.

"Taggart, I don't want a fucking thing to do with those assholes. I submitted my resignation weeks ago. I'm surprised they never told you that before they sent you both to smoke me out."

"We're up here on our own, Flynn. Nobody sent us. Not even the Cadre."

Taggart watched Mali hesitate, but still walked toward shore. He was losing her fast and needed to talk quick. Hadn't wanted to say that NASA and Hodge viewed her as having abandoned the Agency. He tried to catch her attention again.

"You know there is another _Bright Sky _dawning?"

"You might want to worry more about the latest version of the _Leviathan_ program."

Mali said over her shoulder. Kept walking.

Taggart ran up and stood in front of her. The eyes behind the sunglasses looked hard at him. She wasn't used to being stopped.

"Latest version?"

"6.0 and three times uglier than before. That's all I'll say. Since you are into name-dropping."

Mali said and made to get around and past him.

The muzzle of the shotgun seemed to lash out at him. He definitely backed away from it. Taggart did reach out to touch her shoulder when she tried to move.

"Look, all we want is a little time to talk to you. That's all. After that, you want to kick us into the drink, I'll buy that. Hell, Kurt and I will swim back to the mainland too."

Mali's mouth twitched ever so slightly. She took a deep sigh. Her mind knew they were among the biggest pains the Cadre presently had. They were not on the Hodge 'friends' list whatsoever.

Very much like her own situation. When she heard of what had happened to the first _Bright Sky _satellite it had given her hope. Taggart had always been one of Ed's closest friends.

"Where are you two staying in town?"

"Harbor View Hotel."

Kurt offered, trying hard to not indicate that he'd like a better bed to sleep in.

"Did you check yourselves for bedbugs?"

"Should we?"

"I would. Its not the cleanest place."

She cocked her head to the pulsating neon fish behind them. Didn't say that the owner only had the business to make money to send his kids to college and be able to stay free of them on the island. Aside from that, gave no shit about the place at all.

"I know money isn't flush for either of you. This island is a gouge in the off-season. You can stay with me. Its not safe..here."

"Where do you live?"

"Go up Beacon Point Trail and follow it to the metal fence and gate at the end. It's a three-mile hike. There's a white stone house inside the land. That's my place. I'd start soon. It'll be drizzling in an hour or so."

They both let her continue walking on. Taggart saw that she had been initially angry. She was known for a powerful temper at NASA. When it got fully engaged it was not nice to see. That she seemed to accept them was a shock.

"Well, we got a free place to stay. That's a profound relief."

Kurt quipped, happy to be getting out of the too small room. Wondered seriously if the bedbugs were true. He did feel itchy this morning.

"I'm wondering why she carries a loaded shotgun to sea with her."

Chuck watched her walk onto the cobblestoned streets of the town proper. Watched her hang a left and go up the start of a steep hill. In little time, she was gone from sight.

"Sharks?"

"Ain't no fucking sharks going to get at her. I think she has problems of the two-legged kind. But at sea?"

Taggart muttered, then turned to go to the hotel. They needed to pack up and bug out. He even had to admit that staying in a real home was better than the musty hotel room they had to share for one night. Sleeping in close proximity to Kurt was not something Chuck Taggart could honestly say he enjoyed.

"And here I thought everybody wanted Synths in bed with them."

Kurt quipped as they, too, made their way back to the Harbor View.

The two made their final, painful way up the steep hill to Flynn's place and saw the house.

It was big. Built in the last century and it sat in the dripping, wet world between towering pines and other huge trees. All the rainfall made the whole island look like a temperate zone paradise of green. Huge hedges of juniper shielded most of the property from the road.

They walked up with their bags and got nearly to the porch when they saw figures emerge from the drizzle. Men in black slickers, armed with shotguns and topped with cowboy hats.

Taggart froze when he saw that they all were deputies from town. He began to feel incredibly betrayed. It was when he saw Mali.

"Flynn, what the fuck is this?!"

"What this is? It is called keeping this island safe, Taggart. If you truly ARE Charles Taggart, the NASA astronaut."

Mali stood, hands folded in front of her black longcoat and holding a 9mm Glock. The lack of sunglasses revealed her sharp, steady eyes. Ones that were disconcerting if they stared at you any length of time. As they did now.

"Please listen carefully to every word I say. I'd hate for there to be an 'accident'. Some of the boys do get jumpy with their weapons."

Taggart saw the group tighten. The gloom made their faces not easily seen. Kurt was not happy to be included with him. They both waited for what she would ask of them. Hoped like hell that they all weren't on the Cadre payroll and this was Chuck Taggart and Kurt Mendel's last, great fuck-up.

"You would happen to have a pocket knife in your pants pocket?"

"Yeah."

"The both of you will slice a finger and bleed. If you bleed red, you live. If you bleed white, you will be given free air-conditioning and a free cremation. Very simple. Please do it now. Do it SLOW."

Taggart reached in his pocket and removed the small jackknife his grandfather gave him. He opened it up and saw the deputies bristle. The grips on their shotguns could level the weapons on them in seconds. He held out his thumb and let the keen blade ride along the pad of his thumb. The edge slit his skin. He held it up. Blood mingled with the tiny drops of water from the sky.

The blood was red.

"Mr. Mendel."

Kurt took the knife and did the same to his finger. When he held it up the group visibly relaxed. The need for proof satisfied, a tall man stepped out and came up beside Mali. The same man who scrutinized them when they'd stepped off the ferry.

"Sorry about this. We have to take precautions. We've had certain 'people' coming onto the island and causing trouble."

Sheriff Hugo looked to his boys and motioned them to get back into their golf carts to head back down the hill. He patted Mali on the shoulder as she stowed her Glock in her coat pocket.

"Thanks much, Bill. See you tonight at the meeting."

Mali watched him get into the lead cart and the deputies and he took off back to town. She looked back to Taggart and Kurt, expecting them to be incredibly pissed. When she saw they weren't, she was relieved. They must have had their own dealings.

"Bill and his boys have had to kill ten 'plastics' in the past weeks. We couldn't take chances. Billy Landis told me you both were coming up, but I had to make certain."

"So the Synthetics found you here?"

Kurt asked, sucking the blood off his thumb.

"Knew they would. It was only a matter of time. Let's get in the house and out of the rain. I suspect you guys don't want to be wet any more."

Taggart looked at Mali Flynn and wondered if she truly wasn't like their group. Then again, she wasn't like many women he knew.

**Houston**

Neil had just stuck another cheapo pizza into the oven when he heard the doorbell. Of all the food groups a wanna-budding astronaut would want, cheapo pizzas ranked up with fast food for things you most wanted when you got back home. Or from long hours at school.

He'd taken his father's advice seriously and was scouring the library hard for what he needed for his latest round of final semester exams before winter vacation came in. It was no surprise that he was only first home at seven. What was interesting was that somebody was knocking on the door.

"Just a second."

Neil set the temp on the oven and walked down the hallway. He opened the door to see a familiar face.

Penny.

"Hi, Neil. Is your father in?"

_Oh shit. Bridezilla._

"No, he isn't. He's out-of-town for a bit."

"Do you know where he went?"

Neil recalled the admonishment to not say exactly where Kurt and his father had gone. Knew the danger it would put them in. Thank God that the Mustang was safely hidden in the garage and the door was shut.

"Can't say exactly. He's gone on a road-trip. Just booked out and left."

"_Road-trip_."

Penny said, her mouth seemed to go into a sarcastic smile. She seemed to recall she was in front of Neil. Her hand gave him an envelope.

"Would you give this to your father when he gets back? It is important that he gets in touch with me."

Neil took it. Wasn't legal size, so it wasn't legal. Wasn't a card size that would mean 'let's kiss and make-up'. It was personal letter size. One could hope she wasn't knocked-up.

"Sure thing."

"Good night, Neil."

The woman turned and walked back to her car.

Neil shut the door and looked at the envelope. He'd mention it when he called his father after dinner. No doubt, his old man wouldn't be interested in anything Penny had to say. The only thing on his mind was getting to Flynn. Before the Synths did.

Kurt had been itching to get into the computer since he'd spied it earlier. Of the four bedrooms in the house, this was the 'office'. He found the wait difficult over the hours. Mali hadn't said much. She still had things to do and had left the both of them to get settled after an early dinner.

What Dr. Landis had said about her being a loner was too evident in the way she moved about the house; like they were never even there. In a way, it allowed both Chuck and he to get their bearings about the person they were staying with.

There hadn't been overly much in the house to find, once she left to attend a town meeting.

Most of it seemed to be more from Mali's parents than from her. There were smatterings of military plaques and stuff around. Family pictures and unit pictures competed for wall space. The furniture spoke to years before the 1970s It was old, but was nicely reupholstered. Mali hadn't seemed to mind age.

What really shocked them was the veritable arsenal she had down in what was a very dry, secure basement. She had many firearms, a station for reloading and even a station for a small bit of gunsmithing.

Chuck reminded him that she had been a weapons expert in the Rangers. What else she did with that skill hadn't been elaborated on. Or asked about.

Now, here they were, cracking into her computer trying to find the dirt while she was gone. Kurt was sending the command to hunt down midi files when Chuck's cell went off. He kept watching the screen as the father took the call from his distant son. Rain pelted the glass windows thickly. Slightly muffling what his friend was saying.

"Oh, get a move-on, you old dog!"

Kurt muttered as the computer's little flashlight icon still indicated searching. Behind him, he heard Chuck talking quietly to Neil.

"Open the damn thing. No, I don't give a shit if you see it. She's going to exaggerate shit anyway."

Kurt heard the pause in the talk and saw a result come up. It was only one file. It had been buried deep. Very deep. Flynn certainly knew how to hide things. It was only Neil's coaching of him that allowed him to uncover this one file.

"Chuck, here we are."

"Wait a minute..What, Kurt?"

"_Houston, I have MIDI_."

"Hold on. We got a bite. Stay by the phone. Alright."

Chuck shut the cell and came to look over Kurt's shoulder.

"Ready?"

Kurt's finger hovered over, then tapped a key.

"Go for it."

Taggart's blue eyes couldn't believe the screen. The code the whole Odyssey 5 had typed in, on their own, so many months ago was here- on screen. His gut-instinct was right and it was unbelievable. Why hadn't the Seeker ever mentioned it? It had led them to believe that it hadn't encountered any other humans.

A whole screen of midi code came up before their eyes. They were both silent for many moments.

There was no hiding it. It was the same program. Kurt tapped another key and the sound out of the speakers was a noisome confirmation that got promptly silenced by Chuck turning the speaker control off. But not before images came back to their minds. Ones they already knew, so it didn't hurt like before.

"Jackpot. It seems we have a fellow survivor."

Kurt said quietly, after a moment. He looked back at Chuck, who had turned and speed-dialed home again. He sat back in the swivel chair and simply stared at the screen. Wondered how in hell Flynn had come to grips with finding herself back in time five years and having nobody to talk to or have support from. Kurt could openly admit that he wouldn't have lasted without the support of the other four.

"What do we do now?"

Taggart had walked a few steps away to talk, but gave a thumbs-up. Then turned attention to the cell when it connected.

"Well, kid, we found 'Aunt Helen' and she's alive and kicking."

Chuck looked again at the screen. The code language was getting used more and more with Hodge and her group on to them so much.

"Yeah, tell the 'family'. Look, don't sweat the fucking letter...Hey, I don't give a shit. It's a ploy, Neil. Women pull that shit. Look, I'll talk more tomorrow... Yeah, I agree. It is nice to find long-lost relatives. Have a good night. Bye."

Kurt looked at Taggart.

"Well?"

"The 'well' is that we keep our mouths shut until she wants to talk, Kurt. I wouldn't push her on this. I don't think any of us would like being grilled, if we were in her shoes."

He came back up to look at the screen. Penny's antics were sent back into the recesses of his brain with what he saw now. Little wonder why Flynn had booked out of the Agency so fast.

"I just wish the hell we'd known sooner. Living alone and not having anybody to talk to. Shit, that must have been rough."

"Maybe it was for the best. We would have never known about her if you hadn't heard about Flynn when you went to see Hodge. She might have been in more danger if we had met her before now."

Kurt offered. Maybe that was the reason why they only now had found her.

"I think Hodge set me up for this. Wanted me to find Flynn. I figured- and she knew it- that anybody who'd fuck her over was somebody I wanted to see. I guess our habits are getting too well-known."

Taggart stood up.

"Rebury the file. Cover your tracks."

"What will we do when she gets back?"

"You saw the TV downstairs? Let's enjoy some mind-numbing goo disguised as network programming."

She walked up the hill from the meeting and paid little attention to the wet world she went through.

The Council wasn't happy about her 'guests'. It wasn't about Taggart and Mendel. It was about the Plastics. Bill and his boys couldn't hold off the creeps forever. There was also the danger of an out-islander seeing what was going on and thinking the wrong thing about it all.

There had been no concrete decision. Mali assured the rest that her two 'friends' would cause no trouble...and would leave soon.

Mali's eyes looked up at the wet stone house and saw the lights warmly illuminating the heavy drapes of the family room. It had been a while since she'd had company here. Been a while since she had anybody around her, in her space. She hadn't spoken much to them. They did far more talking about the whole network of Plastics they found down in Houston, the doings of the Cadre, Taggart's sabotage job on 'Bright Sky', and the other things that allowed Mali to be able to not get grilled. It still seemed they were holding back on something and they likely were.

Mali heard her wet footsteps as she came up to the mudroom door and felt the handle. She heard talking inside. Not close, but perhaps the next room. The guys were in something animated.

She silently opened the screen and turned the doorknob every so silently. Felt the warmth of air and the voices came clearer. Stepped inside and shut the door.

" Why the hell would they install the damn thing on the ISS? They wouldn't allow such a program up there. Its too-invasive and I doubt anybody who's not part of the program would be allowed to work with it. Remember that foreign astronauts will get sent up there very frequently

once things are up to speed. Besides, there's not even enough juice to run a 'Leviathan' program up there anyway. At least, not properly."

Taggart's voice came next.

"Then how about a reduced version being sent up there? I can't see the ISS not being equipped with it in the future."

Mali catwalked to just shy of the threshold of the family room. After a moment's thought, she came around the corner. Into view.

"The ISS never had 'Leviathan' figured into its computer plans. There are plans for it to be installed when the glitches get worked-out; your power-consumption angle, for one. Still, it'll be a few years. Not until the last of the solar panels get installed in 2009 will there be enough juice to support the system. Modifications to the power relays will be silently..set up. A lighter version of 'Leviathan' will be installed in 2005. It will stand-in until the full version gets implanted in 2007. That is, barring certain events happening."

Taggart's mouth dropped open. The verbal confirmation was almost as stunning as having found the midi file earlier.

"How in hell do you know that?"

"You do know 'Columbia' is still on-track for its date with fate, unfortunately. The interval between launches will be large. The 'Odyssey' won't first be flying until later in 2007. **August, 2007**."

She felt like she'd stepped off a cliff. The two men stared at her. The date resonated with them strongly. She could see that it did. Mentioning the impending, fiery re-entry of a destroyed Shuttle _Columbia _was the clincher. Nobody would have known that, except somebody from the future. Mali went over to the coat closet to hang up her coat. She felt a chill when she realized that she'd put herself out on the line and they had **not** manifested the look of 'what the fuck are you talking about?'. Only her training kept her hands from shaking, but couldn't still her heart that was now pounding. If theywere_ covert _Cadre, she was screwed.

Taggart looked at Kurt, then at Mali. He allowed his mouth to voice his thought. The one he had ever since so many pieces started coming together back in Houston.

"What do you recall about August 7th, 2007?"

Kurt flashed a 'Oh shit, you actually said it!' look at Taggart. They watched Mali freeze. Saw her face's profile in thought a moment before looking at them. Spoke quietly as her eyes looked away, distant. Didn't want to see the reactions in their faces. Knew how they would respond. Knew all along. They were the only ones, aside from her, who had also reacted oddly after Ed Scrivens died.

"It wasn't a good day. Not good at all."

The two men looked at each other. Chuck rose from the sofa first. Followed her into the kitchen. Wanted to bombard her with questions and was having a hard time not doing just that.

"How did you know? About us?"

Mali stood inside the open refrigerator door and reached in for three bottles. Handed two to Taggart. She turned to him. Then looked away. Seemed to recall something. Her eyes came back to his.

"I had my suspicions after Billy called from the Cape. About you..and your group. Rendezvous was two days out. From the meet-up with you folks. That's stuck in my mind the whole time. Why it all happened before then. I thought the Odyssey would've been allowed to dock."

She handed a bottle to Taggart. A look passed between them.

"For the longest time, I thought I was going nuts. That what I had seen might be a nasty, bad dream."

They both went back into the family room. Then the recall began.

She had been telling them how that day was for her. How the transmissions from Earth had suddenly ceased. Then dared to broach something she knew they had encountered. Wondered how they would react. Had no choice but to say it now. Say it and hope they could wrap their heads around it.

"The transmissions stopped. The Network also went silent. There was nothing further that was being said to me."

"Network?"

Taggart said, not quite comprehending.

"I was, at that time, a Synth, Commander Taggart."

Mali saw both men sit up straighter. For whatever it was worth, she had been worried about even saying who....**what** shehad been.

"You might have wondered why I hate the fuckers so much. There's your answer. I left the Cape and NASA so abruptly because they were ready to absorb me into their Hive."

Kurt took a good swallow of his beer.

"Well, we certainly know how that is."

"Too damned well."

Taggart added. His own time becoming nearly a Synth had given him insight that he could never have otherwise had.

"How long were you one of them?"

"At the time of the implosion, five years."

The eyes of both men went wide. For Taggart it was the realization that Flynn had been a Synth in NASA and nobody had ever known her as anything but human. The thought chilled him.

"The entity you referred to as 'The Seeker' gave me the chance to NOT have to revisit that all over again. Even if it never verbalized it. You both know the choice I made."

Mali finally opted to begin drinking her Sapporo.

"I can only guess that it was a chunk of the Earth that hit the ISS. It took out the far end of the Station. We were losing oxygen and pressure. I was able to slam a hatch shut before it decompressed the area I was in."

"And Walters?"

Chuck asked. He knew William Walters somewhat. Then again, Walters was a youngster compared to the group he knew as friends in the Agency.

"A chunk of computer loosed and slammed him in the head. He was dead in seconds."

Mali felt drained. She didn't feel like elaborating. Knew she had to. They had told her their side. She had to tell hers. If only that somebody else might know.

"There was nobody left alive once I shut the hatch. Not that it made one lick of difference. The next thing I knew was that another jerk had a piece of the station's interior slam into my gut. I saw the bulkhead tear away. The Seeker appeared and spoke to me. It was little more than gibberish until I tried to tell it to speak English to me. It disappeared and the last thing I saw was the giant, debris-filled void where the Earth had once been and the sun glowed through all of it."

Taggart saw her lower her head a moment. Then come back up.

"Then I came awake in my old apartment at the Cape. The only time I knew where I really was was when I looked at the calendar on my bedroom wall. When I saw it, I knew I had a chance to avoid being turned into a 'Plastic'. That's my term for them. Its what I felt like for years. My thoughts, my actions, NOTHING was of my will. Only the will of the Network. When Ed Scrivens died, I knew something had changed from what I knew. Ed never died in the place I came from. It was then that I knew I'd never be going back to NASA. Certainly never as a one of _them_."

There was nothing left to hide now but what was not part of their shared experience. She knew they found the MIDI file but, in the scope of things, the snooping wasn't something that bothered her. The three of them had all seen- or 'lived' through- the implosion of the Earth.

"You do need to get back to NASA."

Taggart said, an aspect of his 'command voice' came out as he spoke. One that didn't command so much as cajole. She damn near equaled him in relative rank, and experience. He knew that using the 'save the planet' mantra was not the one to use with her.

"And get turned into a Plastic again? That is their plan for me, you know. Besides, I already turned in my resignation. I intend to stay human."

Mali muttered, taking a swig of her warm beer.

"You're listed as AWOL. They never got it. Hodge canned you for NCNS. She has the ability to reverse that call."

Taggart wanted to meet her eyes again. Knew the shit swarming in her mind like a hurricane.

Mali sighed. She didn't feel like arguing the point. Not tonight.

"You do know there is a war brewing in Afghanistan? Uncle Sam has dibs on me, over NASA. I also doubt Hodge would let me back in."

"Have you gotten the call-up yet?"

Kurt asked.

"No. Not for another three weeks. It seems the one part of this new time stream that is still on-track."

Taggart settled back into the sofa. He couldn't push, yet he did wish she would go back to Houston, with them. At least meet the rest, before going off to battle.

"Look, we can't force you to go back. Would you at least consider it? We need to save this rock. The more hands, the better. How long would your tour be?"

"Nine to twelve months. If I'm lucky and the venue is..secure."

"You might even _want_ to pal around with our happy group down in Houston. We do have loads of fun, from time to time."

Kurt said, trying to inject his own brand of odd humor into things.

"Let me think on it. I'm too damn tired now."

Mali stiffly got out of her chair. Stifled a yawn.

"I'm going to hit the sack."

"Sounds like a good plan."

Taggart eyed the TV, where Jay Leno was making more tired jokes. Nothing but dim, background white noise.

"TV is shit up here."

"Just like down south. Good night."

Taggart would've slept until dawn, save that his bladder had him up before the sun and padding down to the hall bathroom to unload. The dark house was warm and comfortable, but the wind and pounding rain outside could still be heard. He had a headache from the beer, but still looked around the dark hallway with his night vision. Noted that the door at the end of the hall was cracked open. Kurt and he hadn't snooped into Mali's bedroom. It seemed too flagrant a violation of somebody's personal space.

There was little to outwardly suggest that he now felt an attraction to Mali. His shit with Penny made his view of women dim. He still had eyes and a libido, though. Not that he expected to find Mali sprawled naked on the bed. Still, she was highly intelligent and, while not a bombshell, she wasn't too bad to look at. After the talk, he began to feel oddly protective of her. Much like he felt towards Sarah and Angela. Began to understand why Ed liked her. She was down-to-earth and solid. Mali was trying hard to get distance from what she had been in her 'old' life. Taggart couldn't help but respect that. Whatever their group could do to keep the Synths from her, they would. That they were still being sent to retrieve her said too much about how badly they wanted her back with the Network. He knew that he would have never understood her view if he hadn't nearly been turned into a Synth himself.

He crept down the hall and lightly pushed his fingers against the painted, wood door. A look inside revealed rumpled bedsheets, but no Flynn. The large, panes in her room were being splashed with rain. Were uncurtained, open to the wild night outside.

Another manifestation of a minimalism that hearkened back to her time- in another place- as a Synth. The thought left him cold.

Taggart turned from the door and decided to go downstairs. Wanted to see what she was up to.

Mali filed smooth the barrel of another shotgun in the quiet of her 'shop'. The fact she was in a t-shirt and sweatpants didn't bother her. What did was the fact that she wondered if she could ever sleep through a night again.

She occasionally held the barrel to the light so she could make sure on the rough edges being smoothed out. She wanted to be able to carry an under-arm shotgun for going into town. She turned to reach for a polishing rag when she heard a voice at the foot of the stairs.

It reminded her that she had company. On the one hand- she was glad she was not alone. On the other- she was a creature of solitude and had been her whole life. Before they died, her parents litany was always one of 'why haven't you found a man yet?'

It was something she could not understand. Trying to validate your existence based on whether or not you 'found someone'.

"Thought you were 'tired'."

"I have never been able to sleep the entire night since coming back. Old 'habits' die hard. I do, honestly, get tired every now and then. It only lasts a couple hours before I'm up again."

"Did the Plastics let you sleep on the ISS?"

Taggart said, taking a seat on a spare stool and watched her. Noted that she wore no bra under the t-shirt she had on. Then again, being a Ranger had hardened her against any notions of a man not being able to handle seeing a female body. She dressed as she chose, not as what was expected, when in her own house. Chuck still couldn't say that he didn't like what he saw.

"Sometimes. Mostly it was for show. The din in my mind never got totally turned off. The only time it did was right before the...'event'."

She polished the barrel of the shotgun. Her green eyes turned on him.

"Why are you up? The storm?"

"Shit no. All the damn beer."

Taggart gave a small grin. He looked at the racks of weaponry.

"I forgot how much you boys like you can pack away. Should've bought more. Kurt is quite funny when he's tied a few on."

"Glad you think so. He's a pain in the ass the rest of the time."

Taggart found a stool and took a seat. His blue eyes watched as she worked with the shotgun. Lord, but she did love her weapons.

Mali eyed her work on the barrel of her newest, sawed-off shotgun. Then put it down and wiped her hands on a towel. Finally looked at him.

"I've been giving thought to the offer about coming to Houston. I think you need to know, the meeting in town with the island officials wasn't cordial."

"About us?"

Taggart asked, thinking it was about him and Kurt.

"No. The damn Plastics. The people of this island are nearly all retired military. Most gave the better part of their lives in service. They want peace and quiet for the rest of it. The damn Plastics are getting to be more than a nuisance. Especially to my continued life on this island."

Mali sighed.

"I got three weeks before I ship out for Afghanistan. I sure as hell don't want to bring Plastics back with me here when I return. I want to be able to retire here, some day. If we can keep the world in one piece. In short, I'll take you up on the offer of the room, until I ship out. It would be better to seal this place up anyway."

Taggart nodded.

"You got it. If you don't want to cancel your mail, you can route it to Houston. We'll save it for you. I know it can get dicey when you're out on deployment."

Mali looked at him. Not used to such open generosity.

"What happened to your son? Mark. You said he just quit the Program?"

"He was failing the training. Hodge kept him in. In return, she tried to turn my own son against me by having him spy on me. I don't know where he is now. After turning on Neil and me after Paige died, he hasn't been home since."

"Just wondering. I didn't want to be a pain in his ass. Especially if I stay there."

Mali didn't comment about how she thought Hodge was an absolute cunt for doing that to Taggart's son.

"His _ass_ will get a sofa, if he's let into my house at all. My wife died being worried sick about him. He thinks Neil and I caused her death. He bailed on the family, we didn't."

Taggart's voice softened. His blue eyes watched her pick up the shotgun barrel again.

"Don't worry. You got a room. Whether you want it or not."

"Give me a few days to get down there after you two leave. I have some things to tie up in Seattle."

Mali said, fitting the barrel back on and securing it. Looked a moment at the completed weapon.

"You do know my ass isn't leaving here without bagging some fish to take back."

Chuck's eyes tried to gets hers again. Had no luck. He did get something else that had him hooked for good. Something he would never forget.

Mali laughed.

"I'll take you both out. Soon as the weather and sea clears up. It'll be her last sail this year anyway. I'm already late getting her to drydock. She should have been in two weeks ago."

**El Chapultepec Restaurant, Houston**

The remaining three of the 'Odyssey 5' in Houston had dug into their Mexican food and drinks before anybody could even talk about what Chuck and Kurt were up to. The whole group felt uneasy about having to go to the Canary to be 'low key'. Especially with Penny on the rampage against Chuck. It was Neil's idea to try out a Mexican place and it was working out, so far.

To say that Angela and Sarah were floored by the news wasn't the half of it. That another person was now part of their group was almost unbelievable. Especially the more Neil said about the hyper-long talk with his father in the morning.

"What I don't get is why the Seeker found her so many hours before it found us? We were out for nine hours and nearly out of oxygen when we got taken aboard his ship."

Sarah offered.

"The Seeker might have searched a huge field of debris before he found us. Maybe he homed in on something about the ISS?"

Angela took another bite of her cheese enchiladas and waved her mouth as she savored the molten stuff. The food was a damn sight better than the Canary. It also made her NOT dwell on how she'd come back: right in the middle of a spacewalk, over the Earth.

"I don't know. According to Dad, Kurt and him were picked their jaws off the floor. They could not believe what they were hearing. It is pure chance that she was even found by us."

"I'm kinda surprised she didn't come up sooner. If she used to be a Synth, then why haven't they said anything about her?"

"If she is so important, would you want it blabbed to people like us? I think the Sentients have their own ways of keeping the sensitive stuff from becoming known."

Angela looked at Neil.

"Did your Dad say if she was going to come back to Houston or not?"

"She'll be in town for a couple weeks, before shipping out to Afghanistan. She's getting reactivated."

"_Getting_?"

"Her orders haven't gotten to her yet. In the old time stream, NASA got her out of being deployed, just barely. In this new stream, she will be going overseas."

"Where is she staying? Before she leaves, then?"

"My brother's old room. Dad wants me to start boxing Mark's stuff ASAP."

"What if Mark comes back?"

Sarah asked. They all knew of how Chuck's eldest son had cut loose of things and left.

Neil took a sip of his Coke.

"Mark isn't coming back. Even if he did, I think my Dad would kill him before letting him in the house again."

**Johnson Space Center**

Cynthia Hodge looked over the data being provided to her. Not really noticing the man who sat across from her. He still had ways of access, even if he wasn't particularly close to the object. She noted, with some satisfaction, that Taggart and Mendel had indeed located Flynn. The last use of Taggart's credit card had been at an establishment on St. Mark's Island, Washington State. It was little problem for her to send more Synths up there. As far as she was concerned every one of them was walking cannon fodder. What couldn't be afforded was for Flynn to go to Afghanistan. She had to be prevented from being deployed. Although, as yet, the Army had not budged a bit from their wanting her reactivated. That branch still marched to its own drummer. The best way to get Flynn was to make the Synths think that the Cadre wanted her. The Synths were still unaware of the new, Cadre protocol: all Synths were open to extermination. Especially after months of fuck-ups and betrayals of confidence.

"Mr. Taggart, I think you can appreciate the gravity of the mission you are being given. It is highly important to your people- and mine- that Flynn be 'immersed' as quickly as possible once she comes here. She cannot be allowed to do otherwise."

Mark Taggart's blue eyes, so much like his father's, watched hers as she spoke. She was afraid.

He could smell it like a well-trained dog. Hodge was afraid of the unknown. Was a creature of a species without the security and love of what he was part of. Ever since becoming a Synth, he fully realized how alone he had been before he had been 'found'.

Hodge was a shallow, though. The group worked with her and her organization but, soon, they would control what she did. It was they way of evolution. Organic forms were losing their right to command. Soon, his 'people' would dominate the workings of this planet and all on it. In the great plan, this Flynn was more integral than this Hodge sitting in front of him.

"Do you think you can carry this out?"

Mark Taggart nodded his acceptance before speaking.

"I will."

Hodge sat back in her chair.

"That is good. The ISS will not fulfill its role until Flynn is put back up there. Both your people and mine will benefit immensely from it."

Chuck Taggart enjoyed the hell out of it. Enjoyed racing through the waves the boat cut through as it raced toward the open ocean. Loved the salt spray. Loved the fresh wind in his face. It reminded him of flying jets, perhaps not as fast but a rush anyway. Not even the gulls could keep up with them.

As far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but rippling blue expanse. It was almost a shame when he felt the engines power down then cut-off. He heard the anchor go down and looked back at Kurt.

There was no hiding the man's green hue as he went to vomit over the side. He'd been warned not to dig into the scratch-cooked meal too heavily, but couldn't resist. Mali didn't cook like Paige did. What she cooked had matched to Paige in what there was and the quality of it.

Now Kurt was losing what being a pig made him eat.

"Don't think he's got his 'sea legs' yet, Cap."

Taggart smiled as Mali came out from the wheelhouse and began to bring out the poles. His words were punctuated by the sound of Kurt retching anew. Certainly didn't mind her being the captain of her own vessel. In a way, he was glad to not be always in command of things- save in a Shuttle.

"I warned him. Did I or did I not offer him motion-sickness tabs before we left?"

"You sure as hell did. He didn't want them."

"Then he can live with it."

Mali looked at Taggart, then cast a glance toward the bow.

"Mr. Mendel, you will need to set your own bait and line if you want salmon."

The two listened to the loud barfing and tried to not chuckle.

"Here's hoping his puke doesn't poison the fish around here."

Chuck took a pole from the ones offered and opened the bait box to begin baiting his hook.

He looked a Mali's wind-reddened face a moment. Knew that she would always like the sea, even if her profession had the least to do with it.

"You know, I am wondering, why would somebody so close to the ocean choose to go into the Army. I would've thought the Navy would have been the choice for you. Given your background."

Mali smiled to herself as she dug through the baitbox for just the right chunk.

"When I was a little girl I recall watching John Wayne cavalry flicks every time they came on. It was always on the weekends.."

"Sunday afternoons?"

"Nope, Saturdays, in Omaha. Anyway, I dreamt of riding a horse as a cavalryman and hunting down Indians. Tried to even find my own cavalry sabre. Then my Dad informed me that the horse cavalry got disbanded in the early 40s, women couldn't be soldiers, and liking guns wasn't something a proper lady should not ever like. I gave up the idea of the horses, but clung to everything else. Fortunately, the Army agreed. Only after they saw me shoot, though. My folks wanted me to get into cooking , since I was fairly good at it."

"What did your father think of it? Your going to be a soldier."

"You really don't want to know. I think he was mightily pissed that I bucked him, but Mom was too old to have another, more pliant child. They married quite late in life. They always threatened me with 'when you have kids...' and all those mantras. Bucked them on that too."

"Kids are a crap shoot, Mali. You don't know what you will get stuck with. Paige and I were lucky to get two, damn decent boys out of it."

"Even Neil, the Wild Child, gets a favorable review?"

"Wild Child? Shit, that boy was only going through what boys normally work through. He is nowhere near the pain in the ass I was to my father. He's _Chuck Taggart Lite_, you could say."

Taggart saw Mali laugh. Likely one of the few times he recalled seeing her do so since he got up here and met her.

"Shit, that's generous."

Mali said, when she recovered.

"_Chuck Taggart Lite_. Damn, who would have guessed?"

"The truth, ma'am. Nothing but the truth."

Taggart grinned, then turned as Kurt staggered back into view and took a bench seat.

"You finished?"

"I think so."

Kurt croaked, his throat shot from puking.

"Take a nap. Shut your eyes, it'll help keep your stomach down. I'll get you some candied ginger later."

"What good is that?"

Kurt croaked, as he lay down and put his hand over his eyes.

"Ginger has a chemical that blocks the vomit center in the brain. I use it when I get sick. On shore."

Mali cast her line over the side and set it into the deck's pole socket. Then went to work setting a line for Kurt, even though he was out of it. She watched Taggart get up and cast his line over, then set his pole. He sat back down and looked at her.

"Why didn't you get married? I though you would at least have had somebody."

"What I do is not congenial to marriage. Being a Ranger and an astronaut are not jobs that make a woman attractive as a partner. Of course, in the old stream I was not quite..well, you can figure that one out for yourself."

"Sure can."

Taggart muttered. His mind going back to the time he was nearly turned into a Synth. Paige didn't matter in the slightest. All the love he had for her was threatened to be overrun by the collective and the needs of its head, its 'leader'. His blue eyes looked at Mali but saw she was looking away from him.

"I'm more of a loner, anyway. I've always had need of my 'space'. A lot of guys I knew could never deal with that. Nor could they deal with not being the center of attention all the time."

Mali said.

"Darling, those men are the high-maintenance **twits** men like me don't really like."

"Referring to me, Chuckie?"

Kurt raised his head a little.

"No, Kurtrude. Go back to sleep."

Taggart growled. He turned his attention back to her.

"Most men would, if I can say, love a woman who can take care of herself and not be a clinging vine. I think you got that very well covered."

Mali nodded and watched the lines. She chose to stay quiet and watched the sea. The lines of the poles were lightly taut from the current below them.

Taggart saw her look and decided to change the tone.

"Dr. Landis said that you know T.K. Mattingly."

Mali smiled at the mention of the man's name.

"I do."

"How did you meet him?"

"I had one hellish, schoolgirl crush on him. I liked astronauts and military types. Way back when. I liked tall, kinda geeky fellows- like some astronauts happen to be. Back when I was stupid and tried to write a letter to him. Thing about it, he wrote back."

Taggart grinned.

"No shit?"

"No shit. We talked about space, maneuvering vessels in a vacuum, stuff like that. I knew a bit about sailing, so we discussed the differences and similarities of that. When I got my first computer, Ken took to getting me into programs. It was the place that got me hooked on communications. Took my interest in that to the Army, along with my shooting ability. It morphed into my knack with frequencies and communications."

Mali still watched the lines as she spoke.

"I wouldn't have had a thin chance of getting into NASA if it hadn't been for him. He's a sweet man and a damn fine friend. I can't talk with him much now. The damn Cadre and all their shit. Probably thinks I hate his guts."

"Doubt that. You know we all are a resilient lot. Hell, if he still lives in the Houston area, why not look him up? You'll have a little time. I forget which company he works for now. Have heard he's an executive now."

"We'll see."

Mali muttered, then saw a line spring taut. Kurt's.

"Oh Doctor, you have a fish on the hook."

"I don't give a shit."

Mendel moaned from his impromptu bed. Seemed to try to not fall off of it.

Mali saw Taggart jump for the pole. Watched him wrestle with it and the neck arched strongly. He moved to a place on the deck where he could get a better position.

"He doesn't, but I do. Kurt, your fish is mine!"

"Whippee shit."

Kurt moaned.

Mali sighed. Stood beside Taggart. Watched his arm muscles flex with trying to work with the snared fish.

"You know how to work it. Let me know when its close and I'll get the net."

"Lord, it's a strong bugger!"

"Strong bugger equals good size, as you know."

Mali went to get the net and returned to his side. Watched the line ease, then get pulled back. Eased, then pulled back again. Beads of sweat started popping on Taggart's head as he worked the pole. Mali went toward the edge and watched the sea. A huge flash of silver shimmered below.

"You wanted a salmon? Well, you got a nice one!"

Taggart worked the pole as Kurt came to stand beside him. Couldn't help but mutter.

"You barf on me and I'll throw you overboard!"

The fish fought its fate and struggled, but would not be released from its doom. It fought every inch, right up to being caught by the net.

Mali reached out and scooped the fish out with both hands on the handle. She brought it onto the deck and clubbed the creature with a battered billy club she kept for such a thing. The fish stopped struggling and lay still. Its blood mingled with the water on the deck. Its scales clean and healthy. She took the hook from its mouth and patted its smooth sides. The salmon was nearly three feet long.

"Lord, you got a nice one!"

Taggart got up and went over. He picked up the huge fish by hooking his fingers into the gills.

Kurt turned and went back toward the bow to barf anew.

Mali washed her hands when the sea lapped up near the edge. Then stood and saw Chuck proudly holding his salmon. A man with his catch always looked an awful lot like a little boy who'd just caught his first fish. She enjoyed the sight a moment, before Kurt's retching invaded her thoughts.

"You do know that's the last time Kurt goes fishing up here, don't you?"

Mark Taggart hadn't been home in a long time.

Even his Synth brain still held remnants of old, organic thought processes. He recalled this place, this 'home' with a mixture of sadness and anger. Memories of his mother couldn't quite make it through, but old pathways still allowed for recognition of her prized rosebushes and the decorating she had done about the house.

He could tell the house was locked up. His father's Mustang had found a place inside a garage when it never had been able to before. Neil was more apt to take the 'crotchrocket' motorcycle that had been bought for him. Again, his 'father' had shown favoritism. The network accepted such random thoughts, but the time was soon approaching to cast them finally aside. Mark had not been fully 'immersed'. Only then would he know the joy of a single purpose, without delay or distraction.

The spare key to the house was always hidden in back; hung on a nail tacked into a fence support. As Mark walked into the backyard, he paused to recall that his mother usually hung laundry out to dry on the outdoor clotheslines.

They weren't there now.

Mark went to the fence and felt under the support and took the key off of it. Humans were such creatures of habit. When he went to the back door and found the screen locked, he gently applied pressure until he heard the latch pop. Slid the key in the deadbolt and entered silently.

The old smells of home assailed his nose. For a moment he simply stood, looking around.

He checked the garage and saw the dark form of his father's car in it. Then went upstairs.

He certainly knew where his old room was.

The door opened to a room being cleaned out.

The Synth that was Mark was shocked for a moment.

The 'organics', his 'family', was boxing his possessions for storage.

Remember your mission.

The command wiped any further thoughts on the condition of this space from him. He surveyed possible spots to put the device: by the window frame, just inside the closet, by the bedroom door.

All these places were suitable but he opted for on the bedframe. Humans were most vulnerable when asleep. He would need it within easy distance of his hands.

Mark withdrew the slim rod of metal and adhered it to the back of the bedframe. Standing up, he went to the window and unlocked it. Pushing it open, he loosened three of the four fasteners, then shut the window.

For a moment he looked down on the backyard. Used to have happy memories of watching the leaves on the trees flicker and dance in the sunlight. Recalled sneaking out onto the roof to look up at the stars. One time even saw the white dot; the vessel that was flying his father and crew in orbit around the world.

Mark Taggart shook his head and quietly made his way out of the house before he was discovered. However, not before the doorbell rang. He went stiff at the sound. Then went into Neil's room and looked out the window. A woman with very short, dark hair stood below. He heard the doorbell ring again, insistent.

Kurt was drooling when they stood in the smokehouse store.

He looked in fondly at a huge coldcase full of lox, gravlax, and smoked salmon. His oogling was enough to make Mali grin after they'd handed over their catch for processing.

"Interesting that your appetite got back as soon as you step foot on land."

"Especially since he barfed everything down to what he last ate in Texas."

Taggart added.

"Very funny, you two. At least the 'purging' has made room for what I'm seeing in front of me."

"Hope you got the dough."

Mali cast a look at the proprietor and grinned. Her mind turned to the post office.

"Listen, I'm going to pick up my mail. You two gentlemen pick up some fish for supper. At least we can enjoy some tonight."

"I like that."

Kurt said eagerly.

"Good, you can pay for it. My wallet has taken enough of a beating."

Taggart snorted at Kurt's renewed enthusiasm.

Mali left them in the shop and began her walk to the island's postal station. She saw Carl come toward her. He seemed disturbed. He caught her by the arm.

"Keep your eye out for three men in dark clothes. Bill has been hunting them since they arrived on the ferry, but he lost them when they went for Acer's Point."

"This morning?"

"No, on the noon ferry. They never checked into the Harbor View."

Mali patted Carl on the shoulder and went to the post office.

Taggart saw Mali walk up to meet them and was stuffing a small, manilla envelope inside her coat. He knew it could only mean one thing- her orders had come through. She stopped them from continuing to walk up the hill. Instead, led them over to a bench.

"Are either of you **packing**?"

"Packing?"

"Heat, a weapon, a gun."

Mali said, unzipping the duffle she'd brought with them. It was known that she carried weapons anywhere she went on the island. When she heard silence she handed her 9mm and two magazines to Taggart and a Taser to Kurt. Then drew out her sawed-off shotgun and slung its loop over her shoulder.

"Three guys came in on the noon ferry. They fit with the others who've come before."

"What about the local constabulary?"

Kurt asked, looking at his weapon.

"Lost track when they went into the weeds. They're taking a roundabout way, but we'll see them sometime tonight."

She turned to see two deputies in a golf cart and nodded to them. They nodded back and drove on.

Taggart found the sight oddly comforting. It was like a scene out of a western. One was allowed to defend themselves, but the local law was there to back things up as well. He tucked his gun in his pants and they began the walk back up the hill.

He just hoped to hell that help would be quick enough if they were needed.

Penny saw the door open and a tall, young man with blue eyes looked back at her. For a moment she thought she was looking at a younger version of Chuck. Tried to erase the thought as quickly as she could.

"Hi, is Chuck Taggart at home?"

"No, he isn't."

"I just saw the car out front. I'm Penny. I was wanting to talk with him. Its really urgent."

She saw that she almost didn't seem to be registering.

I'm sorry, but you are..?"

"Mark. Mark Taggart. His son."

"Oh, you're the eldest boy."

She said, in wonderment. This was the son who'd left home because Chuck had been an overbearing SOB. Now she could understand why this young man would. She saw him open the door wider.

"Would you care to come in? You can leave a note for him."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

Penny stepped inside and Mark shut the door behind her. The more who could 'help' would be all the more appreciated.

Mali felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

She unslung the shotgun and brought it down to her hip. Her ears picked up the sound of distant voices, then they went quiet. She didn't need to wait long before she knew her instincts were, again, on target.

The three sat on the porch as if waiting for her. They seemed not to care about Taggart and Kurt. Their mission was to talk to her. They were prepared to be deprived of life to accomplish their mission.

"Looks like you have dinner guests, darling."

Kurt said quietly.

"There's not enough salmon to go around. Sorry."

Mali's finger pushed the shotgun's safety button to off.

"Stay just behind me, guys."

The three Sentients stood and made like they would come off the steps. Taggart watched Mali raise, shoot, rack and shoot again. Two of the Sentients tumbled from the steps and onto the ground. By the time she lowered the shotgun, only the middle Sentient remained. Taggart watched Mali rack the shotgun again and hold it at the ready.

The two bodies sprouted their white ooze into the wet soil.

"Speak."

She growled.

"What is your mission?"

The Sentients blinked. Almost seemed to not regard his dead comrades.

"You are necessary."

"To whom? Don't make me beg for an answer."

Mali tightened up on the shotgun. After a long pause, she shot the Synth.

"The objective requires you."

The being finally blurbed.

Mali had shot the Sentient's foot off. The limb blew apart under the impact of the slug and sent bone, muscle and blood flying everywhere. The man slipped backwards and came down hard on the steps. She stepped up, racked, and cocked her head at him.

"If you make me beg I will shoot more appendages off. Do you comprehend?"

She saw Chuck come up alongside with her drawn Glock.

"Did the 'pilot' send you?"

"Yes."

The Sentient was beginning to suffer from fluid loss and stammered.

"You need to join us. You need to go where you belong."

"I never belonged to your 'group' in the first place."

"Records..exist. You..are..required."

"You are wrong."

"You..are..require.."

Mali let the muzzle rest on the Sentient's forehead. Then pulled the trigger and blew the being's head apart.

Penny awoke to find herself in her car, at home.

She had no recall of leaving a message or having left Chuck's house. She felt a searing pain in her left forearm and saw that it had been gashed open. Taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and tried to get out. She never got her footing and collapsed out onto the ground.

She should go to the police, press charges against Mark Taggart. Could only feel that he must've drugged her somehow and she was knocked out. Likely on his father's orders.

Penny felt rage but the overwhelming urge was for her to get inside her house and go to bed. She picked herself up from the ground and stumbled to her front door.

When she felt better she would call in the authorities. Chuck Taggart would not get away with making her the fool. If, in these thoughts, she saw the two people across the street looking at her as odd she never betrayed it.

Mali watched Bill's men haul the bodies away.

The steps had a slug hole and the white goo was everywhere. The rain would wash it all away. Quiet had again descended, except for the turmoil in her mind. 'Rejoin'? She had been a Synth but never did business with Sentients while in it. She now despised the whole aim of sending such 'things' into space at all.

Her green eyes looked over at Taggart.

"You guys need to leave, tomorrow. I can't afford any more of this shit."

"You'll be in when?"

"By this weekend. I have to grab my car in Seattle. I will be sending a couple boxes to your place, for safe keeping. I need quick access to it. If and when I'm granted furlough or a release from doing tours."

"You won't be coming back here?"

"Its not safe, Chuck. If the center of this 'hive' is hell-bent on getting at me, staying here is not wise. I can't hold them off forever."

Mali looked over at Kurt.

"I'll bring the catch in with me. Maybe you could smoke out decent bagels in Houston?"

"Rest assured. I also have very fine wine to go with it."

Mali looked up, into the tall canopy of pine boughs. Wondered why she just could not be left in peace. Why she had to be dragged back into something she never truly wanted to be part of. She lowered her head and shook the raindrops out of it.

"Let's get dinner going. I 'd hate to waste good fish."

**Three Days Later**

Chuck and Neil had just dropped Kurt back at his loft before they drove back to their own home.

It felt good to be back in Houston, but Chuck couldn't say he was happy about having to leave Mali up in Washington. Really would have liked it if she could have come back with them. Still, he knew that if anybody could defend themselves, she could.

"Penny came by again while you were gone."

Neil said, riding in the co-pilot's seat.

"Didn't stay. Seemed preoccupied. Something's up with her."

"Can imagine she was..._preoccupied_."

Chuck growled. The pregnancy ploy was one of the oldest tricks women used to snare men. Spoke of a desperation Chuck damn little need in his life right now. Penny made it clear that she had used the Pill for years and she was in peri-menopause.

"How much of Mark's room did you get cleared?"

"All of his clothes and room stuff. I got it out into the garage. I didn't think you wanted any of the furniture taken out."

Neil saw his dad look at him. Saw a softer look come over him. Not quite what he expected from a man who had always been the Commander, outside as well as inside of NASA.

"Thanks for doing that. Mali's coming in this weekend. Soon as we get home, and I get unpacked, I got a paint job to get going on. I'm going to get a storage unit for his stuff. That way. He can get to any time he likes. I don't think he'll be coming home soon."

"You think Mark will ever come back?"

Neil asked, feeling like he was again on the Odyssey. Asking about Mark as the oxygen slowly got used up as they floated aimlessly. After the destruction of the Earth.

"I don't know. I'd say its not really likely at this time. Perhaps it for the best for him to have his space to think about things."

**Seattle**

The main overhead door of Mendez Motors opened up to reveal the inky black car within.

Pepe Mendez watched as his main mechanic, Carlos, slowly drove it out and stopped it. He was sad to see the fine thing leave. Perhaps even sadder that his friend had to depart for points south, then across half the world. The 'Blackbird' and Mali Flynn would not be back up here for a long time. Could tell by the clothes she wore and the look on her face.

Pepe took the keys from Carlos and went up to Mali. Gave her the keys.

"Your ride, Senora."

"Gracias, Pepe. She's looking damn nice."

"As always. She won't let you down."

"Never has. We know who to thank for that."

Mali smiled, as Juan and Carlos took her bags out of the taxi and put them in the Blackbird's trunk.

"You be safe. Especially in the 'frontera'."

Pepe hugged her and pressed a scapula into her hand. The Virgin of Guadalupe looked at her.

"May the Virgin watch over and protect you."

Mali's eyes teared up. She gave her old friend a final hug and got into her car. A turn of the key and the police engine inside roared to life. She gave a wave to Pepe and his crew, then blasted out into the street and toward the freeway.

The direction south by southeast.

* * *

**Houston**- two days later

He didn't know what impelled him after dropping Neil off at the house on the way back from the airport. To see the man now was like walking into a Synth 'Hive'. It was a risk to openly see the man after all that had happened between the group and the Cadre and Synths.

Maybe it was the fact that he missed Layton Scott. Maybe it was the fact that the man was now a 'Plastic'. Chuck found himself using Mali's term for them almost instantly. At least since Kurt and he left St. Mark's. What ever it was, Taggart wanted better answers and wondered what Layton would have to say about Mali Flynn. Or if he even knew what Chuck knew for certain now.

He'd never expected that Layton had called the house, looking for him.

Being in Houston once more gave him a new insight into the Cadre and the whole world of the Synths and their Sentient...'cousins'. No doubt that Layton could shed light- if he didn't pick up on Chuck's reason for interest- on how the Network viewed things.

He made the turn onto Layton's street.

It had been a calculated risk to openly call Layton. Especially with a highly-overprotective daughter making the man's life her entire world. Taggart could've wished she would find a boyfriend, or interest, and move the fuck on. Chuck also considered that perhaps Layton's daughter was just overly concerned with her father's business so she wouldn't see the sorry shape her own life was in. Obviously, her affairs were getting neglected to care for his.

Chuck's blue eyes scanned the front of the Scott house.

Layton's car was in the driveway, but not hers. Perhaps it was encouraging and a portent that Layton hadn't misled him into thinking that he'd be home. At the Apollo astronaut's age, what Plastic would want to involve him unnecessarily? This though Chuck had to admit that it was strange that Layton had called Neil and enquired as to where Chuck would be. When Neil replied that he was out-of-state Layton hadn't seemed surprised. Seemed to have even 'suspected' that was the case. Layton didn't press and Neil hadn't elaborated. He just told Neil to have Chuck call him.

Taggart wasn't really shocked to see Layton on his feet. He was amazed that the man had grown a respectable wildflower garden in a patch of his backyard and was watering the plants with all the care of a master gardener. Chuck tried to not bite down on the end of his cigar.

"I would have thought your 'guard dog' would have been watching you, old man."

Layton Scott turned his head to Chuck. It seemed friendly enough. Or was it?

"Back from your travels?"

"Yeah. Neil told me that you called."

Taggart exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Scott turned off the hose and spent a minute to coil it up properly. All traces of his former illness were gone. Being a Synth could do that to you. It also gave you back your strength. Which was why Taggart had his grandad's pistol tucked in the small of his back. He could have wished for Mali's Remington shotgun, but he had to appear like he didn't see Scott as an enemy, not as an old friend.

He hadn't wanted to do, but Chuck knew he had no choice about that.

"Damn things will kill you."

"So will stepping out your front door in the morning, Layton."

Taggart took the cigar out of his mouth.

"Was Washington state nice?"

"Never been there before but, yeah, it was."

"Chuck, I think you know that WE know what you were doing up there."

"Really? What WAS I doing up there, Layton?"

Taggart asked. Whatever warmth was in his eyes left. He saw the Plastic come out in his old friend and he found himself as pissed off with it as he was with himself for thinking Layton might have a scrap of humanity left inside him. He knew he was very wrong.

Scott looked at him and calculated where he might find a flaw in the armor.

"Do you really think that going up to see Flynn wouldn't get noticed?"

"Why are you worried? Afraid she'll do the same to your kin down here?"

Taggart knew that Layton would take 'kin' as being his Synth family, not his human one.

"You must appreciate what you are getting yourself into, Chuck."

"I haven't gotten myself into a lot of things without first giving thought to it. I can say your group has no love from Major Flynn. If that is what you want to know."

"Have you figured on the Cadre's plans for her?"

"Don't throw that bugaboo in my face, Layton. You tried it before and it didn't wash. The Cadre has more to worry about from your new 'friends'. I doubt they would lump the Major into the same category. As for 'their plans'- the Army has say over what she does, not them."

Chuck relit his cigar and eyed the man once more. Knew that after this, Layton Scott would be dead to him. At least the old Layton would forever be.

"I can't help you anymore, Chuck."

For once, the old astronaut seemed just a tiny bit sad.

"I know. You needn't go against the wishes of the Network to play at friendship with an enemy of it."

"You could still be one of us."

Taggart gave a toothy grin, after taking the cigar from his mouth.

"I've been there once. I'm not going back. Ever."

Rather than wait to leave, Taggart turned and left. For once, Scott's daughter didn't show up to harangue on his being unannounced and uninvited. Chuck Taggart was able to walk back to his car and leave without being tailed by anybody.

To him, Layton Scott was as dead as if he were six feet under and the Synths had culled another friend from him.

It didn't shock him anymore.


End file.
